


Bound to Fall

by YearsAndDays



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Confused Daryl, Glenn Rhee Lives, M/M, Minor Character Death, Possessive Negan (Walking Dead), Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2018-11-30 12:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearsAndDays/pseuds/YearsAndDays
Summary: No, no, no- this couldn’t be!Daryl wanted to scream. Scream loudly, without a care in the world for who heard, Walkers and Survivors alike. But of course he didn't out of fear for his family and what would happen. Did a scream count as a first word? Daryl didn't know, but didn't want to risk finding out either.This wasn’t supposed to happen, he was supposed to be dead! Daryl’s mind reminded him and the urge to tug the blanket of to see if it was real, to see if the words were black. But he didn't need to. Daryl knew. Negan was his soulmate. He snapped out of his dace when, “It,” reached his ears.AKA; a the Walking Dead soulmate AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter wrote itself really, the rest will probably not be as easy so don't expect too much out of this.  
> All mistakes are my own and as I know myself, there's probably lot's. Will be edited. Someday. *cough* never *cough*  
> No hate.  
> Enjoy!

It wasn't as if he never had thought of his soulmate. His ‘one'. His supposed perfect match. The other half of his soul. Of course he had. There had even been a time when Daryl had dreamt about it and greeted the fact of that somewhere, there was someone made for him. He'd feel loved and accepted by this other person, no matter what. That's what his mama had told him on one of her better days. And he had believed her.

 Daryl regretted hoping, because those dreams were crushed after his mama, not more than a week later, died in the result of a habit she'd picked up from her own one. It hadn't been that, though. It turned out that the pain of losing his soulmate had been too much for his father who in grief and guilt had turned to the bottle. Years passed before he died, but the body that Daryl and his brother Merle buried wasn't their father. Not anymore. That man had died along with the love of his life long ago.

 Not even a soulmate was worth losing yourself and the ones you loved over, especially not one you didn’t even know. If they were even alive! The stories of people going insane when they learnt that their match was already dead after a life time of searching were too close to the truth, too scary to even consider.

 Daryl stopped wishing for a while and spent the next couple of week occupying his mind in the woods were Merle taught him too hunt properly.

 There was once a boy at his school, Leon, who'd discovered his soulmate too early and had in disbelief called out on the fact that the sweet little girl named Grace in their class that had a different color on her skin. Foolish as he'd been, he had acted on his despise and that had made Leon loose her forever. It turned him bitter when he realized what he had done, and soon enough he was a living dead - _by that times standard, anyway_. Now, that was nothing compared to the real deal.

 That had been the final call and Daryl realized that the whole soulmate-thing was not for him - not that he would find his anyway. And if he did, because of some weird, cruel joke from the universe, they'd never want anything to do with him. Daryl was sure of it. He was too broken, there was nothing left worth fixing.

 Not that he wanted to find the person meant to be his anyway, not after seeing his father.

 The first words your soulmate uttered to you were the ones you were marked with. ‘A blessing.’ That was what started this whole thing. A few words.

 His brother had always kept his words covered, which been easy for him as the mark sat on his hip and not on a public place, like Daryl's. It hadn't stopped Daryl from seeing it, though, and finally he understood why. When their mom died, then he had started covering up his mark too, it'd been too much for their dad and any reminder of 'soulmates' became punishable in their household.

 It was done fairly easily, though. Only a few switching ups that made him were long-sleeved shirts instead of tees, and those few times he didn't he either wore a hoodie or a jacket. The summers he detested with passion and winter he welcomed with open arms.

 But Daryl didn't complain. It could've been placed worse, like the boy in his class who had the words on his neck. Or the girl on TV who had it on her chin and was forced to cover it in make-up every morning to no get a million of her chosen's words thrown at her each day.

 It definitely could've been worse.

 Daryl only allowed his thoughts to wander a few times those nights when his father was out after Merle left. Tracing the mark located on his upper arm with his thumb became a habit. He couldn't help it even after all that happened, even after everything he knew now.

 It had been around that time he'd met his neighbors, a sweet old couple that had been together for over 50 years. Their love was still crystal clear in the way they looked at each other. To be honest, it'd made Daryl uncomfortable at first but he had gotten used to it and with time he found himself asking about their words. He'd long ago realized that they were meant to be. They had shared a smile and showed him. Mrs. Harris' words had been on her wrist and in cursive black ink stood _'you're beautiful'_ while Mr. Harris' words was written on his ankle in a whole other style, _'Good morning! May I have your order?'_ it said.

 Daryl's brows furrowed and he'd looked up at the beaming pair. "Why are they so different?"

 Mrs. Harris had drawn her pink cardigan down again and offered him a small smile. "Do you mean the writing?"

 Daryl remembered nodding before staring down at his feet, feeling ashamed. He was supposed to know this stuff wasn't he? But they didn't seem to mind as Mr. Harris told him. "The words you have are in the handwriting of your one, and the words he or she has is in yours. That's why everyone's so different."

 Daryl sat thoughtful for a while. "He or she?"

 "Yeah, he or she. Your soulmate can be of anyone, gender is a petty thing to be hung up about when it comes to the love of your life, don't you think?"

 "So it's okay to be paired with a boy, even if you are a boy?"

 Daryl could still see the smile he received from Mrs. Harris clearly in his mind. "It's okay."

 Then he'd asked a ton of questions, and that afternoon made up for the knowledge he'd missed out on his whole life. Daryl had been beaming as he left and for the first time he dared to hope, to really hope that he'd meet his other half and they'd be happy.

 But as early as the next day he'd found Merle home, for the first time in a while, sitting on the porch staring at the grass, eyes empty. Their father hadn't been home and that had probably been for the best.

 "Are ya alright?"

 "It's nothin'," Merle had muttered, barely loud enough for Daryl to hear.

 He'd raised a brow even though his brother couldn't see him and closed the door behind them. "Ya sure?"

 "It's nothin'," his brother said again, harder this time and Daryl paused in his movement to sink down beside him. Instead, Daryl settled with leaning into the rough wall to observe his brother, by now, he usually snapped.

 Then he'd seen it and Daryl's whole world froze. Seconds ticked by but nothing seemed to move.

**I'm Fred. And who are you?**

 They were black.

_Merle's words were black._

 And that could only mean one thing. Daryl's heart sank.

 His brother had met his soulmate, and it must've been recently, judging by the way he was acting.

 "Ar-"

 "Please _don't_."

 The pain in Merle's voice was enough to make Daryl shut his mouth and look away from the neat text, almost covered by blue jeans. Only a few letters showed. But it had been enough for him to know. He saw them clearly in his mind.

He didn’t ask how it went. Merle’s expression said it all. But he’d always known, hadn’t he? Almost like he’d planned it. He probably had.

Before the mark he’d frowned upon same-sexed soulmates. After, he’d avoided the subject entirely. Daryl didn’t think he’d changed his mind over the years – but now, now he knew.

 Daryl didn't go back to the Harris' house after that, refusing every invitation with half-assed excuses that'd he'd feel shitty about at least a day afterwards, but it was better that way.

 Now, when the world officially had gone to shit and there were dead rising, roaming the earth, he could only hope that the couple Harris had died peacefully before all of this, not _during_. No one deserved to watch the one they loved die, _especially_ not them.

 The whole soulmate factor was actually one of the many reasons the world had fallen so quickly, without them they'd maybe had a shot but there was no use in dwelling now. What's done is done, and either way, it hadn't been anything they, the humans, had control over. The opposite was a far more accurate statement.

 No one wanted to believe it, that something so _good_ could lead to something so bad _._ But Daryl had seen it happen, more than once, and it proved that there wasn't any better in this world. Mother Nature had been worshipped and created it, and now when they'd corrupted, it would be their doom. Humankind was doomed.

 The pain of losing ´the one', was too much and many fell by that alone. If not by their own hands it was by the hand of a corpse with the body of a loved one. That had been the first wave of the 'soulmate-fever' that struck, then there was the ones that survived and went mad, and more often than not they ended up doing more bad than good. The Governor, was one of them. The loss of his wife had been too much, and when he'd lost his daughter, even though she'd been a walker by the time, it was the last straw before he proved the theories right. 

 Then the last stage hit. The grief of knowing that you'd never find love, not _true_ love anyway. That was what cracked most in the end.

 But then there were others, like Daryl, who were relieved. No expectations, no destiny, no rejections.

 His path was nothing but his own to decide now.

 

 

_"Daryl."_

_"-Daryl!"_

 It took a while for his foggy mind to catch up and register the sound, let alone process it as a voice. 

A groan of pain escaped him as the ground under him moved and his head crashed into the hard wall behind him and a load thud followed, one that soon was overshadowed by his pounding head. Daryl groans again.

Taken, right.

 "Daryl, are you alright?"

 Quickly, too quickly, Daryl's eyes shot open and his whole body tensed up until his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he recognized the dark shadow beside him as Michonne. His shoulders slumped and Daryl leaned back into the cold surface, mumbling a response, “’m fine.”

 Just as he’s gotten it out the whole space they’re in jerks, and Daryl’s injured shoulder hits the wall. He barely manages to muffle his yell at the sudden strike of pain.

 Michonne shoots him an unimpressed look. “Clearly,” she says, and Daryl would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the situation they were in. Besides, it would probably hurt like hell.

 “But seriously, are you okay? You’ve just been shot.”

 “I’ve had worse,” is the only reply he gives her. She frowns but keeps quiet.

 Rosita nudges his thigh with her knee, and he gives her a small smile. It turns out more like a grimace, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She and Glenn sits right across from them. And from what he can see, they look like shit. Not that he or Michonne looks any better, though.

 They’re all cramped inside of the backspace of a van, and he has no idea how long they’ve been in here, but by the looks of the others tired expression it’d been a while.

 “We will get out of here. Rick will get us out of here.”

 “We’ll have to try ourselves first, we can’t trust Rick to save us every damn time,” Glenn said, voice creeping toward irritation.

 Daryl could almost feel Michonne narrow her eyes at Glenn, but before she could reply Rosita sighed loudly. “There’s no use in fighting, let’s get us out-“

 She never got to finish her sentence, because suddenly the vehicle stopped moving and the engine turned off. They all froze, and Daryl scooted closer to the wall to get upright, preparing for the worst.

 But nothing came.

 Nothing happened.

 There were some shuffling outside, people talking and car doors closing but that was it. It was like they weren’t even there.

 It took a while for any of them to relax and partly drop their sharp focus and when Daryl finally did, he noticed the strain of his shoulder and how cold it suddenly had become.

 Daryl shivered and raised the arm connected to his good shoulder and pushed his hair out of the way that clung to his sweat clad forehead. For the first time he noticed the blood he was covered in – his own blood, and how dirty his shirt were.

 Michonne threw him a blanket that landed right in his lap. He took a moment to examine it before picking it up to give it back but she just shrugged and gave him a ‘you need it more’ look.

 He did the same toward Glenn and Rosita. Reluctantly he soon took it back himself when they both refused it.

 So he decided to just wear it. He used his good arm to draw the blanket up and tried to drape it over his shoulders, but it wasn’t until Michonne loaned him a hand that he got it right. Right now he was useless, but the warmth the blanket provided comforted him enough to no dwell on it too much.

 Daryl sent her a thankful look and she nodded in response.

 He didn’t dose off, none of them did but they kept quiet to both listen and because honestly, there was nothing they could do. But Daryl closed his eyes and strained his ears, resting his head sideways.

 So when the itch began he froze up and didn’t shrug it off as just a dream. He wasn’t asleep.

 It _couldn’t_ be.

 Harshly, he scratched the skin on his arm but it didn’t help, it only made it worse. Daryl shrugged the white fabric off, ignoring the cold and pain that interrupted as the blanket slipped in behind him.

 Daryl was thankful for the armless shirt, it made it easier to stare at his glaring skin that showed off his words, almost proudly. He ran his thumb over it to try and calm it down and it worked. For a second.

 As soon as the skin to skin contact disappeared, it hit again. Daryl withheld the urge he had to slam his head against the wall, repeatedly, and settled with glaring at the two words that right now was making themselves known after years of peaceful agreement. On his part, at least. They seemed to have another idea.

 If the others saw him staring they didn’t comment.

 He’d been thankful to finally be able to wear anything but long sleeves because along with the words end were the many questions and remarks, because everyone shared the same pain. Daryl had been relieved and no longer cared who saw his mark, but if it kept acting like this he would be forced to.

 Daryl pulled the blanket up again and glared at the ceiling, trying to ignore his rising fear.

_Why?_

_Why now?_

 There was no answer. He looked down, only to meet the eyes of Rosita and they shared a look. Sorrow and understanding. Daryl opened his mouth to speak when bright lights flared through the door slots and suddenly the air was filled with noises.

 They were whistling, Daryl realized and a shiver went down his spine.

 Then it just stopped and voices rang trough, it didn’t take long until the doors opened and Daryl blinked rapidly at the sudden light directed right at them. He recognized Dwight, who took a hold of his arm, dragging him out and onto the ground, lit by the bright lights.

 The pounding headache made itself re-known as he was pushed down, knees scraping against the gravel. Daryl slowly sat up, just in time to watch Glenn receive the same treatment.

 “Maggie!” Glenn called out, and Daryl leaned back and looked around for the first time, eyeing the crowd of saviors and the half circle of his own people kneeling on the ground with him.

 Relief, was the first Daryl felt at knowing his people was safe and unharmed. It was quickly replaced by concern and fear. Because for how long? They were surrounded and unarmed. There was no way they were getting out of this unharmed.

 Maggie looked like she’d been hit by a truck and anger flared up in his chest, and it took a lot for him to restrain himself at the thought of them hurting her as a man started talking. Daryl leaned back on his knees, too tired to do something else.

 “Alright! We gotta full boat. Let’s meet the man,” he said while moving backwards, where he then dramatically stopped by the RV, that the others must’ve came in, and knocked on the door, lips quirking in sick glee.

 The door swung open and a tall man stepped out. Dread filled Daryl and for a moment he found it hard to breathe. It struck him how handsome he were, until the madman grinned widely, stepping further into the light.

 This was Negan.

 He wore a black leather jacket tucked over a red scarf, and he held a baseball bat in a tight grip leaned against his shoulder, wrapped in barbed wire. Negan smiled again.

 A chill went down Daryl’s spine. _This guy is a maniac_.

 “Are we pissing our pants yet?”

 The mark itched again, but Daryl kept his hands off of it in favor of glaring at the man parading around, a playful smile on his lips as he talked, like they were all on a friendly family dinner, and not as if he soon were going to slaughter them.

 Daryl glared harder but kept his mouth shut.

 Negan’s hot breath marked the cold air as he spoke, ”Which one of you pricks is the leader?”

 “It’s this one. He’s the guy,” the same man as before replies tactfully and points. Negan spares him a glance and moves over to Rick.

 Daryl watched his every move as he talked, still playful, but there was a glint in his eyes that made Daryl restless. A dangerous glint that promised pain. Lots of it.

 The bat moved from his shoulder and Daryl tensed up, hell they _all_ tensed up.

 “Give me your shit… or _I_ _will_ kill you.”

 Negan smirked again.

 “Today was career day. We invested a lot so you could know who I am and what I can do,” ha paused and pointed his bat at Rick. “You work for me now.”

 He moved it away and along the gestures of his hands. Daryl was transfixed.

 “You have shit, you give it to me. That’s your job. Now I know that is a might big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly will.”

 Negan leaned closer to Rick and continued, explaining his rules.

 “You understand?”

 He squinted forward, as if his hearing was somewhat bad and he’d missed something. “What? No answer?”

 Negan leaned back and looked over the line of people seated at his feet. “You didn’t really think you’d get through this without being punished, did you? I don’t want to kill you people. Just wanna make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can’t do that if you’re dead, now can you?”

 He zoomed in on Rick again before looking away.

 “But you killed my people. A whole damn lot of people. More than I’m comfortable with,” Negan said, a hand over is heart as if he was the one to feel uncomfortable in this situation. Daryl pushed down the urge to growl. “And for that, for that you gotta pay.”

 Daryl stared at Negan, he had the whole time along with the others, but then their eyes met and Negan paused for a second. He looked almost surprised. Daryl’s eyes narrowed, but he did not break the contact. He was not going to lose in this.

 Unconsciously, he must’ve reached to please the itch, because suddenly Negan’s eyes fell to his upper arm that was covered by the blanket, thank-god, and they glazed over for a second before he turned away. Towards Rick.

 Daryl cursed himself and drew his hand back and down onto his lap.

 “So now… I’m gonna beat the holy hell out of one of you.”

 Negan twisted the baseball bat around. “This, this is Lucille... and she is _awesome_.”

 He kept talking and walked around, only stopping in front of Abraham where he frowned. “Gotta shave this shit,” he muttered, stroking his own beard. Daryl couldn’t decide if it was black, grey or white. Probably a mix of all three colors, not that it really mattered.

 Daryl dropped his gaze for a second, trying to find new strength in on the ground. All he found was dirt and blood. Probably his own.

 Negan started talking to Carl and crouched down in front of the kid, making Daryl’s blood boil. Then he moved on and paused at Maggie. “Jesus You look shitty! I should just put you out of your misery right now.”

 “NO!” Glenn screamed and launched himself forward only to be stopped a few seconds later while Maggie called out to him and Glenn was slammed to the ground. The ones holding him down threw Negan a questioning look, silently asking what they should do about it.

 “Put him back in line,” Negan said and Dwight dragged a struggling Glenn back.

 “Don’t do that again. I will shut that shit down!”

 Daryl lost focus but it quickly returned when Negan whistled. “I simply can’t decide.”

 Then the man twisted around and Daryl’s muscles turned rigid as Negan grinned, “I got an idea!”

 Then it dropped and he pointed the bat towards Rick. Daryl’s panic made itself re-known and he prepared to attack him if necessary. Negan then surprised him by saying, “Eeny,” before moving on to the next in line as he kept going. As if it was all a game to him. It probably was, and it made Daryl feel sick.

 “Meeny.”

 “Miny.”

 “Moe.”

 “Catch.”

 Negan moved on and reached Daryl. Their eyes met as the bat moved in front of him. Negan smirked down at Daryl who kept glaring. The itch turned to a burning fire and for a moment, Daryl thought it was all over but then Negan finally choose to speak, “The Tiger.”

 He moved on, but Daryl remained glued to the spot, unable to move an inch. His whole world had stopped.

 The Tiger.

_The Tiger._

_The Tiger!_

_No, no, no- this couldn’t be!_

 Daryl wanted to scream. Scream loudly, without a care in the world for who heard, Walkers and Survivors alike. But of course he didn't out of fear for his family and what would happen. Did a scream count as a first word? Daryl didn't know, but didn't want to risk finding out either.

 This wasn’t supposed to happen, _he_ was supposed to be dead! Daryl’s mind reminded him and the urge to tug the blanket of to see if it was real, to see if the words were black. But he didn't need to. Daryl knew. Negan was his soulmate. He snapped out of his dace when, “It,” reached his ears.  Daryl looked over.

 “Anybody moves, the boy dies.”

 And with horror filled eyes Daryl watched as his soulmate beat Abraham to death with his bat, only pausing to remark, “Look at that! Taking it like a champ!”

 There’s glee in Negan’s eyes as he swings his bat around, as if to show of the bloody mess he just made. Then he laugh and swings around, hitting the spot were Abraham’s body lies. Over and over again.

 Daryl stares with empty eyes. This was his soulmate?

 A quiet sob escapes Rosita and Daryl looks over, forgetting about Negan for a moment when he finds her tear streaked face staring hollowly at the empty space in front her.

 Negan strides over and Daryl stops himself just in time from reaching over to her.

 “Sweetheart, lay your eyes on this,” Negan says, giving her an eyeful of the bloody barbed bat he calls Lucille. Chunky pieces of flesh hangs by its thread and Daryl’s glad that Rosita isn’t looking.

 “Oh, my!” he suddenly shouts. “You guys were together! That sucks, but he just took one or two, six or seven for the team!”

 Negan narrows his eyes as she doesn’t respond, or react at all really. Daryl’s blood boils as he leans closer and whispers dangerously, “So. Take. A. Damn. Look.”

 Rosita sobs.

 “Take a damn look!”

 It’s all Daryl can take. He pushes himself of the ground and lunges forward, blanket falling off of him and he takes a swing. No sparks fly as Daryl’s fist connects with Negan’s face, but the mark burns warningly as if Daryl would give a damn. He doesn’t.

 Negan’s head falls to the side and he automatically back away, but when Daryl tries to follow hands grip him roughly and he’s caught. Daryl tries to fight them off but it’s useless and it ends up with him being pushed to the ground.

 “No!” Negan yells angrily and Daryl can see the bat pointing in his direction in the corner of his eye were he can still see Negan.

 “Oh, no!”

 “Go to hell,” Daryl growls out through his teeth.

 It only takes a second for him to realize what he’s done but it’s already too late.

 He knows. ¨

 _He knows_. Fuck.

 Negan freezes in the middle of a step and stares down at Daryl, eyes wide in surprise. More emotions passes, but Daryl can’t really see them from his position on the ground.

 Daryl closes his for a few seconds. _Why can’t he just keep his mouth shut?!_

 A chuckle filled the silence and Daryl had an unsettling feeling when Negan didn’t stop, still refusing to look at the other. There’s shuffle above him and his focus shifts as one of the men holding him down moves back, to make space for Dwight who steps forward, clutching Daryl’s crossbow in a tight grip.

 Daryl wants to growl again. But look were that got him last time! He keeps himself in check but can’t help the sneer that he makes when Dwight raises _his_ crossbow and points at his head, leaning closer not to miss.

 “You want me to do it? Right here, right now?” he asks, and there is eagerness in his voice.

 Killed by his own weapon, huh? Daryl doesn’t know if he should puke or laugh. Maybe both.

 “NO! _No_ , you don’t!”

 Daryl flinches, and so does Dwight, who takes a step back and looks with confusion and fear up at his leader. “What?”

 Negan ignores him and crouches down next to his soulmate, staring down at the filth and mud covered man that is his. He chuckles and takes a hold of the others hair, firmly but gently pulling it backwards. Their eyes meet.

 The older man grins. “Oh, shit!” he then exclaims, before letting go of Daryl’s hair and stands up. “You’ve got some balls doing that shit!”

 Daryl can’t help but follow Negan with his eyes as he seems to notice Dwight, as for the first time, still standing there with the crossbow. Negan doesn’t seem to be faced at all and walks up to the blonde. “Who’s this?” He points down, right at Daryl who tries to squirm away. But there are still hands holding him down, preventing him from doing just that.

 “His name is Daryl,” Dwight began, but Negan just waves it away.

 “Daryl… Wow, it actually fits!”

 He laughs again and Daryl frowns as the older motions something. “Put him back in the line.”

 “But…”

 Then suddenly, his easy grin is gone and Negan glares at Dwight. “No buts! I said; put him back in the line! _Now_!”

 Quickly, Dwight stumbles forward and joined hands drags him backwards until he’s seated between Rosita and Michonne again. Michonne eyes him with shock and Daryl just shrugs. He doesn’t really get what’s going on either, even though he probably knows more than her.

 The shock is now gone and replaced with the earlier cheerfulness, but Daryl can’t help but notice how Negan sometimes glances his way and how the tall man seems somewhat more distracted than earlier. Negan sinks down to sit in front of Rick again, and gloats abut Abraham’s death, still not pleased with Rick’s response.

 He rises to his feet and Daryl winces as they lock eyes once again, but the dark gaze is gone as fast as it came. Daryl has half a mind that he just imagined it.

 Then Negan grabs Rick by his collar and pulls him along. “I’ll be back. Maybe Rick will too.” He drags him towards the RV. “If not, we can just turn these people into that,” Negan halts to glance at what’s left of Abraham.

 Daryl flinches and Rosita sobs quietly.

 He pushed Rick inside and followed him smoothly, shutting the door behind him. It’s quiet for a while before the engine starts and the RV shakily goes down the dirty road.

 The Saviors starts shifting around, talking amongst themselves but Daryl can’t focus on any of it. He feels sick, his head is still pounding and the drain makes itself known and he leans back, suddenly very tired.

 Abraham’s dead. And Daryl’s soulmate killed him.

 Daryl’s soulmate is the one they’ve been hunting all along, the one who’s been creating turbulence in the world even after it has ended.

 The sun was beginning to rise, but it didn’t stop the chilly air nor from encouraging it to bite onto Daryl’s exposed skin. His mark didn’t itch anymore, but he didn’t bother covering it up with the blanket even though it would also provide him warmth. It was too late to take anything back he already knew. And besides, he didn’t deserve the comfort it.

 It’s morning when the RV comes driving back and Daryl glances up just in time to see the blood splattered door slam open and Negan steps out, pulling a bloody Rick behind him. Daryl is worried, but the blood doesn’t seem to be Rick’s own. Daryl’s shoulders slump in what’s close to relief. He can’t help but notice how broken and helpless Rick looks. There’s nothing Daryl can do to make it better though, only worse.

 Negan pushes Rick to the ground. “Here we are.”

 “Let me ask you something Rick, do you know what that trip was about?”

 He doesn’t answer and Negan’s blank face turns annoyed, mouth twisting downward. “Speak when you’re spoken to.”

 “Okay, okay…” Rick pushes himself up to all fours and Negan smiles, pleased.

 “That trip was about the way you looked at me.”

 A prickle of fear run down Daryl’s spine as Negan continues. It isn’t over yet, is it? At least Negan isn’t looking at him anymore. Maybe he’s forgotten or maybe he’s not Daryl’s one and the universe is just playing tricks on him.

 Sadly, Daryl doubts both options. His attention snaps back toward the two leaders as the standing one of them raises his voice. “But you still look at me the same damn way, like I shit in your scrambled eggs and that, that ain’t gonna work!”

 Rick looks lost, confused and there’s nothing Daryl wants more then to help his friend but instead he just sits back on his arse and watches. Daryl hates himself for it.

 Negan crouches down and shuffles around with his bat. “So, do I give you another chance?”

 “Yeah, yes,” Rick mumbles and Negan pats his back, standing back up.

 “Okay, alright. What you do next will decide if it will be everyone’s last crap day or just another crap day.”

 Rick sits up.

 “Put guns to the back of their heads. Oh, and make sure you level with their noses because if you fire it will make a real mess!” he adds, and makes a blowing sound, gesturing what will happen. Daryl feels disgusted again.

 Then he forces Carl forward and threatens Rick that if he doesn’t chop his kid’s arm right off, everyone will die. Rick tries to reason with him but Negan doesn’t budge. Michonne attempts to talk Negan away from it too, but it’s useless.

 For a moment, Daryl considers to lunge at the madman again because even though he won’t reach him, Daryl’s death would hurt him. And it’s the only way Daryl can wipe that smirk right off and make him feel pain. _It is worth it_ , he decides.

 But before he can do anything Rick raises the weapon over his head, ready to strike. _It’s too late_. Surprising them all, Negan pushes Rick’s arm away in the last second, successfully saving Carl’s arm.

 Daryl exhales a sharp breath that earns him look from Negan, but Daryl doesn’t notice, staring with relief at his leader and his son. Negan raises his brows in irritation but drops it and looks away.

 “Rick, you answer to _me_. You provide for _me_. You belong to _me_. Right?”

 Rick nods furiously but Negan’s mouth quirks downwards. He grabs Rick’s chin harshly. “Speak when spoken to!”

 “You answer to me! You provide for me! You belong to me! Right?!”

 “Yeah,” Rick chokes out.

 “Right.” Negan let’s go, then breaks out smiling. “That is the look I wanted to see!”

 Daryl looks down at the ground and lets his hair fall over his eyes as Negan cheerfully says, “We did it. All of us. Together! Hell, even the dead guy on the ground. He gets the spirit award for sure!”

 “Today was a productive damn day! Now I hope for all your sake’s that you get it now. That you understand how things work. _Things change_. Whatever you had going on, it’s gone now and this is what’s gonna happen now.” He motions between them.

 Then he pauses, and Daryl forces himself to look up only to find Negan’s eyes on him. They’re conflicted, but he seems to come to a decision and another smirk plays on his lips and he strides up to Daryl.

 “You’re coming with me, Tiger.”

 Daryl flinches at the choice of words and glances at his arm.

**_The Tiger_ **

 He notices too late that his action brought Negan to do the same and quickly covers the black mark with his hand. Negan’s awe-struck look turns sour and he clenches his jaw, but gestures at Daryl all the same.

 “Load him up.”

 Horror dawns on Daryl’s face as hands grabs him from behind and he’s dragged backwards, pulled to his feet and he struggles to get free but there’s no use, and Daryl is shoved back inside the truck they arrived in.

 He’s ready to fight, but Dwight’s there again pointing at him with the loaded crossbow and there’s nothing he can do as the doors close. The last thing he hears is Maggie sob and the last thing he sees is the tear streaked faces of his people, his friends. No, _his family_.

 But then Daryl is locked inside again and darkness falls around him. There’s still some light shining from the door cracks and he notices that the damn blanket somehow made its way back here with him.

 Daryl curses himself and falls back against the wall. His shoulder still hurts, but the pain there is nothing compared to everything else that’s just happened.

 At least they’re safe now. They’ll get home and it’ll be okay.

 But that’s a lie. They’ll never be _okay_. Everything’s changing and they’ll have to brace themselves for what’s to come. Without Abraham. And without Daryl.

 It doesn’t take long until the car starts running again and Daryl closes his eyes.

 All because of his one.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive at the Sanctuary. Daryl is surprised, hurt and tired - which ends up taking a dangerous turn. Negan is worried and Dwight is fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the nice comments - they really gave me a boast to update and write faster! (Blame my stepbrother for any extra late days, he asked me to re-watch season six with him and HOW COULD I REFUSE?) Thanks again, they made me happy!
> 
> Not edited well. I made the last touches on this kinda late at night and I'm really tired, this was actually supposed to be different so sorry if it's bad. I'll take a closer look on it later on. Have a good day everybody!
> 
> I AM NOT GOOD AT SUMMARIES, I'M SORRY.

When he opens his eyes again he’s there. At the Sanctuary. This must be it. The vehicle has stopped and Daryl can’t think of another place they could’ve gone to. There’s sounds coming from the front and Daryl guesses that whoever drove has stepped out.

He shifts and turns his face toward the light sipping through the door. But nothing happens and Daryl can feel himself frown. He raises his hand to do something, then remembers that there’s actually nothing he can do and it falls back to his side.

That’s when the doors fly open and Daryl pushes himself up and away, he backs a few inches. If he is to close they could easily grab him but if he is back here, he’ll be the one with the advantage (as much as he can have being in enemy territory, wounded and unarmed) – But it’s not like he is going to go down without a fight.

Daryl blinks a few time to adjust his eyes to the sudden light and stiffens when he recognizes the person standing there. He freezes.

It’s Negan.

Quickly, or as fast as Daryl possibly could with his injury, he regains control over his body and scrambles backwards, away from the maniac that is his soulmate. It’s not like he’s scared. Okay, maybe he is, but it isn’t of the other man, it is more of who he is and what he is capable of. Maybe it’s the same thing, it hardly matters, though. Daryl doesn’t want Negan near him either way.

There aren’t any emotions displayed on his face, Daryl gives him credit for that much and are thankful. But soon enough he recognize the movement behind his eyes as a whole bunch of them and suddenly he’s back to square one.

“Get out of the car.”

It isn’t a plead, but it isn’t really a command either and Negan looks tired, like this day has been hard on him too. Daryl doesn’t give a shit. Let him hurt. Daryl doesn’t move an inch.

“I said. Get out. Of the car. Now.” There’s anger in his voice that wasn’t there before but Daryl still doesn’t move.

“I ain’t your bitch,” Daryl just mumbles and stares Negan down defiantly. To his surprise the taller man just laughs and says, “You most certainly are _not_.” Before jumping into the truck, quickly taking a steady hold around Daryl’s wrist. Then he leads him out, easily enough.

Daryl is too shocked to do something other than follow him out of the truck. He hadn’t expected Negan to actually get Daryl himself but send some of his goons to do his dirty work, like always. Daryl would’ve gotten some good kicks and punches in and in return receive some bruises himself but it’d be worth it.

Negan must’ve known that too, it’s at least what his cocky grin tells. Tingles, runs up and down his arm as Negan holds him and he must’ve have felt it too, because when Daryl tries to yank his arm away Negan only holds onto him harder, tightening his grip.

The younger lets Negan have his moment but makes a point of walking as far away from him as he can possibly can while being stuck in his hard grip. Daryl has other things to focus on.

While they walked through halls with or without doors Daryl work on memorizing the route because if he’d ever need to escape, knowing where to go would be preferable. They pass some people who bowed their heads in Negan’s direction and Daryl has the urge to roll his eyes.

_Gullible fools_.

He must’ve been too caught up in his surroundings because Daryl nearly jumps out of his skin when the hold around his wrist stops him from going further and Daryl’s pulled into a warm chest. A feather light touch brushed along his words. Sparks and a warm, fuzzy feeling spreads over his skin. Panic swirled through him at the touch. With one quick motion he spun around and twisted himself free.

His moment of victory didn’t last long. Mere seconds later his arms were grabbed and bended behind his back. This time Daryl didn’t bother struggling, the stunned look on Negan’s face was enough of a price.

“Trying to run already, huh? Not cool, not cool at all! We gotta establish some ground rules,” he said and gestured for the men to let Daryl go and as their grips went limp the shorter man shrugged their hands off.

Daryl remembered what had occurred earlier, with Rick, and grunted. It wasn’t a good response, but it was something.

Negan didn’t seem to mind at all and stared at him intensely. He opened his mouth to continue, but got nowhere because then the man from before came running.

“We’ve got a situation,” he panted out and gestured toward the way he’d arrived from.

“Okay, we’ll have to do this later but for now,” Negan took a step closer and with nowhere to run Daryl stood his ground as Negan leaned in close. Daryl could feel the hot breath against his cheek. “You run, you’re friends die. You kill yourself, they die. You get the point, don’t ya?”

Negan leaned back and gave his cheek a light pat before backing away fully. “Lead the way. Oh, and Daryl. Go get some sleep.” Negan looked him up and down. “You’ll need it.”

And he was gone.

Daryl let go of the breath he’d been holding. The sound of a door opening made him turn around.

“Get inside,” the man that wasn’t Dwight said and reached for Daryl but he ducked away and growled. Then he walked in between the two to get inside.

“Fucking anim–“ the door closed before Daryl could catch the rest, and the sound of the door being locked was the last he heard before the room fell into complete silence.

It didn’t take more than a minute for Daryl to become familiar with the entire thing. A bed, a side table and a chair along with a shelf. It held a few books and a figure of glass. A tiny, see-through version of an elephant. The room connected to a small bathroom with a shower. No windows there either, and that was it.

Daryl sat down on the bed. He sat there for a while as everything came flying back and there was no way to escape his own mind. Daryl got to his feet and kicked the small table, knocking the whole thing over. “Fuck!”

 

Daryl didn’t know how long he’d been locked in there for, but it’d been a while and slowly but surely it was beginning to drive him mad. Dwight had been there with food a few times but he hadn’t been in the mood for talking and the few questions Daryl asked went unanswered.

He couldn’t sleep and the lack of it was slowly draining him. It wasn’t as if Daryl actually laid down on the bed and tried, he’d been avoiding the bed completely to be honest. He wouldn’t risk falling asleep while still being here. And a small part of him also refused because it had been what Negan had wanted of him, so sleeping would be like submitting. Negan knew that too, and it was probably why he even added it at all. So Daryl stalled as long as he possibly could.

It wasn’t the brightest plan, Daryl got that, but there wasn’t much besides that which Daryl could do in the position he was in. A small win was still a win after all. He had considered refusing the meals Dwight brought, but Negan’s words still rang in his mind. _“You try to kill yourself, they die.”_ And Negan did probably count starvation as a suicide attempt. Daryl learned that after Dwight refused to leave the room until Daryl had forced down at least half of the food he’d given him.

The topic of soulmates had yet to come up in his train of thought but it was close by, always lurking in the corner of his mind, a constant factor. Daryl just couldn’t handle to think about it. It was too soon, and after a lifetime holding himself back from doing it, was it hard for Daryl to finally flip the switch and do just that.

Daryl rubbed his eyes and pushed his hair behind his ears, to keep them from covering his eyes and sighed. His fever hadn’t gone down but thankfully nobody, meaning Dwight, had commented on it and his shoulder had also gone unmentioned, _nothing had actually been mentioned_. So they left him alone.

It still hurt like hell, but the pain was a welcome distraction, allowing his thoughts not to stray too far and made it easy to stay awake. Daryl sat on the floor, his back pressed against the wall in the crammed space in between the bed and the table, legs drawn up to his chest.

“You look like shit.”

Daryl leaped to his feet and for a split second he was ready to fight until he saw it was only Dwight and he slumped back down, letting out a pained moan as he bumped the table with his shoulder.

The blonde looked shocked, although Daryl paid him no mind as he took deep calming breaths to get his heart rate under control as he tried to ignore the flaring pain. He was too sore and too tired for this shit.

He hadn’t even noticed the other unlocking or opening the door, and that was _bad_. His senses was all he had here and they were already failing him. Not sleeping seemed to have been a mistake. It wouldn’t matter if he was awake or not, his focus were gone either way. _Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier?_

Daryl reminded himself that he wasn’t alone and lifted his gaze. Dwight held a blue tray that carried a plate filled with bread coated in butter, some kind of meat and a couple of veggies, along with a cup of water and a plastic spoon.

He made no move to stand again and waited for Dwight to place it on the table, like so many times before, but Dwight didn’t move. Daryl met the gaze of the other and found emotions swirling through his eyes. Fear, confusion, worry? No. That’s absurd, his mind must be playing tricks on him.

Leaning back, Daryl closed his eyes.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

Daryl didn’t bother to reply, which seemed to rile him up even more. Finally, the tray was placed down and Daryl reached for a carrot that he chewed lazily on while watching Dwight pacing around, cursing, through hooded eyes. Then he suddenly stopped and within two seconds he was out the door and with a click, Daryl was alone again.

It was unexpected, he’d never been left alone to eat before, but it wasn’t like Daryl minded. Actually, he preferred it. So instead of forcing it down as quick as he could to get Dwight to leave, Daryl gave it time and left it alone now when he could decide for himself when he felt like eating.

He ended up staring at it for a while, it was the only item unexplored yet. That wasn’t the case for too long though, and Daryl closed his eyes, unknowingly giving into the foggy mist of his mind.

When he realized what was about to happen, he didn’t mind it. Too tired to even think straight. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Vague glimpses entered his mind and different sounds reached his ears. A door shooting open and footsteps. A voice. “What the fuck do you mean with you forgot that you shot him?! I cannot–“ It drowned in the fog. Negan, leaning over him, slicked hair out of place and barely contained rage shining through his eyes.

_Negan, Negan, Negan, Negan–_

With a jolt, Daryl shot up from his position of laying down, something he soon regretted when sharp pain erupted and shot through him. Daryl sank down and bit back a pained groan.

“Careful,” a voice spoke and Daryl looked up. It belonged to an average looking man in his mid-fifties, who gave him a smile, “Or you’ll break the stitches. You were quite a handful when you were asleep, I can only imagen how you’d be while awake.”

The man smiled again and Daryl brushed off the statement to look around. He were in some kind of infirmary and the man were definitely a doctor, judging by his white coat and the easy way he moved around among the stuff. He definitely knew what he was doing.

“I’m Dr. Carson. And you’re Daryl?”

Daryl didn’t answer and stared blankly at the man from behind his hair that had fallen over his eyes again for a moment, then he looked away.

“Now, how does your shoulder feel?” the other said suddenly, apparently not minding his none existent reply. Daryl glanced back.

He was about to shrug, but settled with an unidentifiable grunt when he remembered his shoulder and the doctor’s words about pulling any stitches. Dr. Carson didn’t seem surprised about his lack of speech, and not too bothered either as he continued shuffling around the place.

“I’ve cleaned and stitched your wound, and it will heal just fine – if you let it, so take care of yourself, rest and make sure to not get into too much trouble. It’d be a shame to see you back here so soon,” he said over his shoulder and Daryl rolled his eyes, not even objecting once.

“I will need to look at it now, though, when you’re awake. Sit up and turn around.”

Daryl gave him a suspicious glare but did what he’s told and sat on the edge of the mattress. He shivered, finally noticing how he sat shirtless. And clean. Daryl immediately tensed up. As if reading his mind, Dr. Carson started to explain as he tended to the wound, “Your shirt is off being cleaned. I had to take it off to check you over, but at least I managed to stop Negan from tearing it apart last night. Oh, and I cleaned you up a bit – Wouldn’t want to infect the wound just because of personal hygien.”

He’d been listening closely as the doctor talked and worked with his back, so he barely noticed when a hand clasped his forehead, too caught up in what’d he’d said. _Last night_?

“That’s good, your fever has gone down.”

“How long did I sleep for?” _Fuck not talking_.

“A few hours. Five, maybe?” The doctor chuckled. “When you got here, you guys almost gave me a heart attack! Negan came charging in with you in his arms, passed out and pale in his arms. I have never seen something like it! You should’ve kept hydrated,” he ended accusing, and Daryl would have rolled his eyes if it weren’t for his current situation.

Dr. Carson might’ve said something more but Daryl’s mind had gotten stuck at the ‘ _Negan came charging in with you in his arms’_ bit in a constant repeat. So his high-on-pain dream might’ve been real. Negan had been there after all.

The older man must’ve noticed, because he gave out a heartfelt laugh and shook his head as he spoke, as if he himself couldn’t even believe it. “I have never seen something like it,” he said again. “He carried you in here, looking out of his mind with concern and then stayed by your side. I can officially say that I’ve seen everything.”

Daryl’s brows furrowed. “Stayed?”

“Yeah, he left just before you woke up,” he replied, turning back around to work on something and Daryl’s mind whirled with questions. He didn’t voice up on a single one, though.

The mark buzzed with so much anticipation that Daryl wanted to claw at it if only to distract himself for a few minutes. They must have given him something, because the pain wasn’t more than a throbbing presence rather than its previous raw pounding. And while it was nice to be able to move without hurting again, he needed it to stop unwanted thoughts from returning from the dark corners of his mind, were he until now had been able to keep them at bay.

Now they were all returning to the front and Daryl wasn’t prepared, could not deal with this now. _If ever_.

They were soulmates, sure. He hadn’t accepted it, but by now he knew that it was fact. Daryl wouldn’t be able to get himself out of this one. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight it. Over his dead body he’d let anything happen.

Negan was the enemy. He’d killed Abraham he would have killed them too if he didn’t need them to provide for him.

Although it was hard to know and Daryl didn’t really know Negan’s view over it, he had low-key suspected that Negan felt the same this whole time. The acts that Dr. Carson described had been right down the opposite lane, though. And that scared him.

Daryl didn’t know what to make of it anymore. Not that he really had in the first place.

“I think that was it. You’re free to go.”

Quickly, Daryl got to his feet. This was his chance, if the doctor didn’t know then he’d have time to find his way out of here before anyone was debriefed and –

“Doc, we done here?”

His head snapped to the side. _Of-fucking-course_.

Negan.

His glare was met with a wide shit-eating grin and Daryl tensed, reminded at how he’d done the same while bashing in his friend’s skull in.

If the doctor noticed Daryl’s increased discomfort he didn’t comment or look twice on it. “Yeah. Make sure he keeps hydrated, sleeps and doesn’t strain himself too much, and maybe we can avoid another appointment like this.”

“Sure thing, doc!”

Daryl sneered at the cheerfulness but Negan wasn’t looking at him, gaze directed somewhere lower, but not that low. Then he remembered that he was shirtless and that his words were on full display on his arm, right in Negan’s field of view.

Not so smoothly but very effective, Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, maneuvering his hand so that it covered the black mark completely. Not the comfiest position, it did the job though.

Negan’s eyes drifted up to briefly met his, and for a moment it looked like he was going to pout, but he settled with a raised brow and a disappointed look that also asked, ‘ _Scared_?’ Daryl looks away from it.

Suddenly Daryl feels very happy that Dr. Carson had been the one to undress and wash him. Knowing Negan had seen it all was way better than the man doing it himself.

He caught the worried and curious expression crossing over Dr. Carson’s features and narrowed his eyes at him, making him hide a not-so-subtle smile behind his hand.

Daryl is handed a tee which he quickly pulls over his head. It’s blue and only slightly too big, but Daryl doesn’t think too much of it. His mark is still visible, but he can still walk with his arms crossed. That’s not a problem.

“Let’s go.”

Negan began to move out of the room and Daryl started to follow him, passing the doctor by the door, almost missing the low sentence that he gave him.

“Negan will take care of you, if you let him.”

Daryl froze and looked back at the older man, startled. He didn’t have time to turn his surprise into a glare before Negan’s voice rang through the silence, “We don’t have all day, come on Tiger!”

How could he say that over and over again like it was nothing? Like it was the most normal thing in the world. Daryl tried to shrug it off but it stayed on his mind as he with one last glance looked back at the doctor who gave him an encouraging smile as they left the infirmary.

Keeping his distance at the same time as he had to walk close enough so that Negan wouldn’t get any ideas like grabbing him again was hard, especially when the hallway got crowded.

The flock of people passing forced Daryl to walk behind Negan, and the people behind him pressed close. Which resulted in him walking close to Negan’s back, making them walk constantly in each other’s personal spaces.

Daryl would have thought he’d make some kind of comment, but Negan kept his mouth. Smirk in place, easy stride as they went. The urge to choke him didn’t come quite as many times as it usually did, and it was probably because of the lack of talking on Negan’s part.

Negan suddenly stops walking but this time Daryl manages to get a hold of himself and notice, and he also halts a good inch from Negan, releasing a pleased breath at not crashing into the other man. Negan side eyes him but Daryl doesn’t really care, for the first time remembering that there’s a reason for their sudden stop. He spots Dwight

“Dwighty-boy! What you got for me?” Negan’s voice was still cheerful, but it was glazed over with something dark that Daryl couldn’t identify. It wasn’t good though, that much was easy to see.

Dwight fidgeted where he stood as he began explaining some situation that Daryl soon found none-useful so he quieted listening into specific, eyeing the other people instead who avoided them like the plague.

The air around them was tense and Negan was more and more on the verge to actually resembling a stormy cloud. Suddenly the avoidance makes sense.

“Sure thing, boss!” Dwight choked out, and their eyes met for a second and for the first time Daryl noticed the bruise around Dwight’s good eye, making it all puffy and purple.

“What happened to you?”

The question was out before he could stop it, not that he wanted to either. Daryl genuinely wanted to know this time. He had his suspicion, and the only conclusion he got forward wasn’t good. It would’ve been alright, but what the doctor had awoken his slumbering paranoia of what the other’s intensions really were.

Negan had sounded angry after he’d passed out and Dwight had fetched him. But had it been that angry? Had Negan done that to him? Negan’s face was blank and as cold as ice when he met Daryl’s stare, making him look away.

The answer came easier than expected and words weren’t even needed.

Dwight’s eyes darted to Negan before he quickly stumbled away and if that wasn’t enough was the way Negan’s eyes followed Dwight told the story just fine.

Daryl wanted to ask why, but the answer might not be what he wanted and right now, that frightened him more than being caught in the wolf’s den did.

His hand was grabbed, and the taller man started to walk again. Daryl made no move to pull away to let the other’s anger rest and to make his mark stop itching for a second like it always seemed to do in Negan’s presence.

When they finally stopped walking, they were in a part Daryl didn’t recognize and that definitely _was not_ his room.

“Where are we?”

Negan looked at him with a smile. Then he opened the door.

“Welcome to my humble home!”

Daryl peered inside. He didn’t know where he’d thought Negan lived and what it would look like. But this was definitely not it.

It looked too normal, too pretty. Maybe just right for the other man, although Daryl couldn’t bring himself to see it.

He took a step inside as Negan didn’t seem to be moving anytime soon and caught sight of more of the room. Still not filled with trophies from his deals like the heads of his dead enemies. That he was hiding it was one option but it Negan seemed like someone who would show off with it, so maybe he wasn’t like the governor after all.

Should he be relived or disappointed at that? For his people it might be a plus, but for himself… Not so much.

It’s big and spacey, walls in a greyish green color and big windows that spread light over the dark room and furniture. There were several shelves filled with all kinds of decorations; plants, books, figures and animal skulls (maybe that counted as trophies?). Then small tables, and then a big black leather couch across from two similar looking armchairs with a table of glass in between, placed on a rug.

It looked… Good.

A frown were covering his features as he stood in the middle of the room. _Why the fuck was he here?_

“Gonna stand there all day, are you? Sit down. Eat. Drink.”

They exchange a look. From one side filled with muted hatred, numbed pain and confusion. The other, smug and distant.

The first sign he’s seen that Negan after all is affected by this too.

With a few quick steps, Daryl is on the rug and with another move he’s seated in one of the armchairs, the one furthest away from Negan. A purposeful choice.

On the tabletop made out of glass stands a plate, over filled with food. A mug with water by the side. Daryl notes how there’s an actual knife and fork there, not a spoon. Either they’ve decided that he’s no longer a threat, or they just don’t think he stands a chance against the man whose room he’s in.

The lather is the option he’s leaning toward. On other days, Daryl wouldn’t agree but in the shape he’s in and with no weapons there is only so much damage he can do.

Tomorrow is another day, though.

Leaning over the table, Daryl slides the plate over to his side from where it stood on the side close to the couch. _Yeah, not gonna happen_. He leaves the water for now.

There’s shuffling noises behind him, and in the corner he can see Negan shift so that he’s leaning against the one of the walls.

“Don’t be shy, dig in!”

Daryl doesn’t reply.

He almost expects Negan to lash out like before and shout at him, but the man only smiles bigger and keeps his gaze on him. _Observing him_.

Daryl barely keeps himself from shuddering as he looks away. He takes a bite of the stew and it isn’t bad, so he keeps on chewing and taking new bites. The plate becomes emptier and emptier by the minute, and Daryl dreads the moment it’s gone. _What will he do then?_ There was no way knowing.

However, Daryl knew one thing. He swallowed down a spoonful, took another and chewed.

This was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's thinking things through and the rules aren't followed while Negan is getting rather impatient. Rory is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as long as usual or really looked over (sorry for any mistakes.) I'm trying to update every Wednesday (Swedish time) so with that, school that just started and other distractions I will probably fail or it'll be short. This is kind of a part 1 out of 2, the other should show up within a week. I had trouble coming up with in what order the plot should go so sorry for any weirdness. 
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos!

Daryl didn’t know what to think anymore. About anything.

Three days has rolled by, all the same. Or as much _the same_ they could be while he’s here. So when the fourth day arrives, he certainly isn’t prepared for what’s to come.

After days spent partly in his room, partly in Negan’s they had come to some sort of silent agreement, where they talked as little as possible and barely acknowledged each other more than necessary. Not to say that it always was followed or even remembered, but it kept Daryl from strangling the man at every chance he got. Which were a lot, as Negan almost always seemed to appear in reaching distance.

Breakfast, lunch _and_ dinner, was served at Negan’s place every day and Daryl didn’t know if it was because of the poor outcome from before or if it was just to spite him. Not that Daryl complained, walking around the halls previous to and after every meal only helped to improve his knowledge of the all paths. By the second day, he knew the routes like his back pocket and could probably walk it while sleeping.

Escaping now would be as easy as it could get, if he found the right moment that is.

Also, there was daily visits to Dr. Carson and his infirmary. They weren’t worse than the rest of the events of the day, but seeing how the doctor still thought Negan was some kind of god-like creature that would be great for him was too much to handle all at the same time. And that he wouldn’t stop glancing at his arm made the whole thing ten times worse. At least he didn’t seem to _know_. But the doctor wasn’t daft, he’d figure it out eventually.

And Daryl hoped that for the love of god that it would appear later rather than sooner, because by then he would have gotten out of the Sanctuary. And if not, he’d at least be without stitches soon and wouldn’t have the same need to go see the other man.

His eyes shot up just as a familiar click was heard, but Daryl didn’t bother to neither look up, nor sit up when the door swung open, making him no longer alone.

“Rise and shine, Honey!”

The side of Daryl’s mouth quirks downward in irritation but he keeps his cool and doesn’t acknowledge the unwanted presence of Negan in any other way. Instead he lies still for a while at the end of the bed where he fell asleep a few hours earlier.

He can almost feel the other man’s annoyance grow by the second as he only moves to sweep his gaze around the room he’s now memorized inch by inch, pointedly ignoring the other man. Daryl is no longer surprised by Negan’s lack of action but the creeping feeling it leaves still makes him shudder in a not-so-very-pleasant way.

The itch of feeling trapped shoots through him and he stretches. Cracking sounds erupts from his tense bones and he rises from his curled up position on the surprisingly soft mattress and lets the sheet fall to the side.

Finally, Daryl’s eyes reach Negan, who visibly softens. Daryl watches him in a guarded manner and cocks the side of his head, uncomfortable with the whole situation. A gruff, “Let’s go,” leaves his mouth through clenched teeth and Negan grins manically.

It doesn’t make him wince anymore, but the vision of it stills haunts him at night.

“Eager today, are we?”

Daryl glares and walks past the other man, who grins, spins and follows the shorter of the two out.

He gets curious looks as they go, something that’s been happening a lot more lately. The blank stares, plain ignorance and the few looks of hatred had for the most part switched as Negan’s eyes were on them to stolen glances and low murmurs of wonder.

Looking away is easy, but ignoring the burning gazes is something entirely else. Thankfully, it isn’t far and soon enough, they’re there. It’s weird to feel relief with the other man so close, so it soon fades away and left is a cold, numb anger.

Always two steps ahead Daryl walked with his hands deep in his pockets when they finally got out of the crowded area and they were alone once again.

The first time Daryl had eaten breakfast with Negan had gone just as smoothly as you’d expect. Negan had been on edge the majority of the time and more than one intense stare were thrown his way, his dark eyes following Daryl’s every move like a hawk.

He told himself it was to check on the hostage so that he didn’t pass out or die on him, which kind of would ruin the whole hostage thing. But who was he fooling? Not himself, at least.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” he’d asked, after a long time of silence. Daryl had already eaten the sandwich on his plate, and the water had been poured down the second after he’d sat down on the same chair as the day before. He hadn’t meant to be nice, he just found it weird and wanted to know. Also, he felt trapped and fidgety, wanting something else on his mind.

“You concerned ‘bout me?”

Daryl’s lack of a reply spoke for itself, but Negan grinned anyway.

The off vibes turned into a pleased buzzing under his skin and Daryl regretted even asking. Negan’s mood improved considerably after that, though, and at the next meal two plates were brought.

Then, when he’d dropped of Daryl for the evening Negan’s hand brushed against his and tingles erupted. They both froze. Quickly, Daryl snatched his away. Negan’s eyes turned hard and he had put his hands on Daryl’s chest and pushed him inside, using his surprise against him before slamming the door in his face.

Daryl stared with wide eyes for a while, trying to figure out what just had happened. The other man was unpredictable. Too unpredictable. There were no way of knowing what would happen next with him around.

A crazy soulmate with bad temper. _Great_.

That’s when he’d settled his rules.

 _Don’t get to close, don’t talk_. (If not absolutely necessary.)

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped Daryl out of his thoughts. He quickly took in his surroundings. They were at already Negan’s. Said man stood a few inches away, looking down at him with curiosity.

He stood a little too close for Daryl’s liking, so he quickly sat down at the nearest furniture that could pass as a seat. Which happened to be the black leather couch. The one he had been avoiding. Until now. Out of the corner of his eyes, Daryl could see Negan raise a brow.

Daryl glanced at his usual seat but stayed put. Switching would be losing, giving into the fear. And he wasn’t afraid.

Negan chuckled and Daryl sent him a glare.

The other man laughed again. Someone knocked, and Negan’s attention shifted. The door opened and a boy that couldn’t be much older than Carl stepped inside holding a tray two sets of plates and mugs.

Negan threw his arms out and grinned. “Rory!” The teen nodded slightly in greeting and offered him a tiny smile, gone so fast that Daryl almost doubted it’d been there in the first place.

Daryl watched _Rory_ with newfound interest. His head was covered in a blonde mop of curly hair and his eyes were green. He wore a dark red hoodie and a grey pair of sweatpants. He held himself in a tense, guarded way that would have surprised Daryl if Carl hadn’t used to hold himself the same way. His expression spoke of boredom.

Rory – _That name sounded awfully familiar_ – put the tray down on the edge of the table and slid it toward Daryl over the glass surface. They locked eyes and Daryl caught some curiosity before looking down at the food the other had brought. Oatmeal and sliced apple.

He grabbed a slice and plopped this in his mouth. Yum. Daryl couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten an apple, and a sliced one? It felt like a lifetime ago.

“What’ve you been up to, haven’t seen you in a while. Simon giving you a shit time?”

Rory rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “He _is_. Remind me again why the fuck you keep him around?”

Negan chuckled. “Well, a right-hand man is important and Simon is loyal as fuck. Without him I’d have to work a whole damn lot more. And I can’t have that now, can I?”

The kid didn’t answer, instead using his thumb to point at Daryl, who’d just began on the oatmeal. “Who’s this?”

Negan looked at Rory and let out a laugh, striding up to stand behind Daryl and leaned over the couch, griping his shoulders. “This, this is Daryl!” He squeezed and Daryl tensed and tried to lean away, but he was held firmly. “And he’s a badass who doesn’t take shit!”

Daryl finally managed to free himself from the other’s grip. For a split second he was in full on force mode and he could see Lucille leaned against the wall. But if he failed, his friends would die and Daryl couldn’t let that happen. He forced his anger down and took another slice, slowly leaning back.

“I can see that…”

Daryl sent Rory a quick glare.

The kid frowned, paying him no mind. “He new? I haven’t seen him around before.”

Negan replies but Daryl doesn’t register what he says because it’s then it clicks. _Rory_.

“You’re from the Hilltop, aren’t you?”

Daryl says it slowly and quietly, but it’s enough for everyone in the room to hear it and stop what they’re doing to stare at him.

He realizes his mistake but doesn’t try and cover it. It wouldn’t make that much of a difference, right? And either way they don’t know what he knows so it should be alright. Worry swirls in his gut.

Negan’s eyes go wide but his face doesn’t give up any trace of other emotion. Rory’s on the other hand goes through a whole lot of them, surprise to sadness to anger and then a whole lot more.

He takes that as a yes.

The kid opens his mouth to speak but he doesn’t have time as a quick knock echoes through the silent and the door opens. Rory’s mouth closes.

“Rory – there you are! Sorry Negan, but Rory is needed elsewhere. That alright?”

It’s the man form before, the man that more or less introduced Negan and this _Simon_ that Negan just mentioned. His right-hand man.

“Yup! That alright!” he replies and winks at Rory who groans, sending his leader evil eyes. “What ‘bout you, Daryl? That alright with you?”

Daryl only grunts.

Negan smiles and pats Rory’s back. “That’s a yes. I’m teaching him human language you see, and he’s made a lot of progress! Before he was growling,” he says while leading Rory to the door.

The urge to growl grow, but thankfully he doesn’t give in to it. Laughing erupts form the other end of the room and he glances over at the three standing there now talking for a short moment.

They talk some more but Daryl ignores them.

Negan laughs silently as the door closes and walk over to the other end of the room where he begins to shuffle around, something Daryl soon lose interest in. He turns away and starts piking in the meal before him, only casting chaste looks at the other moves around, mumbling to himself.

A quiet laugh draws Daryl’s attention but thankfully he doesn’t notice and keeps doing… Whatever he’s doing. His black hair looks newly washed and slicked with gel, and he’s wearing his black leather jacket over a white t-shirt. He’s also wearing dark pants held up by a brown belt, the same as before. And then there’s the prickly baseball bat Lucille. Daryl can’t help but glance around, but he doesn’t catch sight of it.

His eyes unconsciously draws back to Negan. The other man is handsome, there is no denying it and for a moment Daryl can’t help but wonder were the mark is. Where _his_ words grace Negan’s skin.

Quickly, he returns to the plate, on edge, quietly hating himself for thinking something like that.

A tiny chuckle turns him back around though, and Negan raises his brows in amusement, flashing a cocky grin.

Instead of just looking away Daryl takes a calming breath and gestures toward the none-touched plate filled with all kinds of goodies belonging to the older man. Playing it off in a whole different direction. “You ain’t hungry?”

Negan stares blankly for a moment, then of in a smile. “Forgot ‘bout that.”

With a few steps he was by the couch, where he sank down and grabbed the plate, starting his meal. At first Daryl is tense and doing everything in his power not to squirm away or move the thigh that almost nudges Negan’s but the other man just eats and doesn’t acknowledge him in any way, so it’s fine. It isn’t like Daryl is afraid, he just prefers not to be too close.

He goes back to his food.

When Daryl’s done, he takes to fiddling around with his hands as he lets his thoughts wander freely for a moment. Unconsciously, Daryl starts to nibble at his thumb.

“So,” Negan starts.

Daryl looks over.

“How the fuck did you know about the Hilltop?”

Negan’s words are uttered carefully, almost sweetly. But if the command wasn’t obvious enough by the situation, it is by the way waves of chills runs over him, mark burning unpleasantly.

 _Oh shit_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're released from the daze. Negan is possessive and Daryl gets a reality check and decides that he's had enough of this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went smoothly, but I have no clue what's going on or what's going to happen. Bare with me - when it's all done I'll go back and fix it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and have a good day!

“That’s none of ya’ business.”

Negan’s eyes narrow and he leans in close. Daryl holds his ground.

“Well, I, I think it is.” His hot breath touch Daryl’s ear as he whispers, “So _tell_ me.”

The other man is about to lean back, to look Daryl in the eye as he answers but Daryl’s hands grabs a hold of the leather jacket and stops him, pulling him back. Meeting his eyes with a hard stare. “Go. To. Hell.”

Negan grins.

“That’s music to my ears–“

As fast as he possibly can Daryl pushes himself forward, successfully overthrowing Negan and flips them over, making him the one on top as he straddles the other man, holding him down and pressing him into the couch. Daryl frowns. Because to his surprise, Negan doesn’t fight it. He laughs instead and makes himself comfortable by putting his hands behind his head.

Daryl is about to make a run for it, but pauses when the older man speaks.

“Not the most uncomfortable position,” Negan smirks, leaning further into the dark leather as if he’s enjoying that he’s being manhandled by the enemy. Daryl glances down, for a moment too shocked to move. “But we’re getting off track.”

Too late, Daryl caught on to the meaning behind the words, so when he finally leaps away but there is no time. He doesn’t even get off the couch when his wrist it grabbed and he’s pushed down, and suddenly their positions are reversed again.

Negan easily slides onto his thighs, holding Daryl’s legs down without much trouble. With one hand he has Daryl’s hands locked above his head and with the other he pushes Daryl’s hair out of his face.

It was filthy and unwashed, but that didn’t seem to bother him the least as he ran his fingers through it a few times, before letting them run down the side of his face in a gentle caress. It made a tingly feeling spread all over and Daryl shivered. He hadn’t meant to and the tiny movement made Negan paus, like he was noticing him for the first time.

He smiled slightly and drew his hand over his chin one last time.

Negan leaned back slightly, still close enough to have a steady hold on Daryl’s hands, but not too close. Far enough away so that they could see most of each other properly and Daryl was thankful. Having the other man too close made the fact that they were soulmates hard to hide, and not just because of the mark that kept acting up.

“This, however, might keep my attention,” Negan said and grinned widely, like they’d just found out that all Walkers that roamed what was left of the Earth suddenly had fallen down and died. _Really died, this time_.

Immediately, Daryl turned cold and his expression hardened.

Negan’s smirk fell slightly. “Or maybe not.”

“Get off of me.”

“No can do. I rather like it up here.”

Daryl started to wiggle and twist around to get the other man to either fall off, release him or simply get tired of him moving around, causing trouble. Nothing of that happened. Instead the glint in those dark eyes turned stone cold. “Okay, if it’s this you want.”

Negan sighed.

“I repeat. How do you know about the Hilltop?”

Daryl’s mouth was a thin line. No answer.

“Last chance.”

Negan waited, frown deepening by the second. When he realized he was not getting an answer.

“It’s just gonna get worse, you know.”

Still nothing.

“Damn you!”

Negan’s fist flew past and hit the place right beside his ear. Daryl didn’t flinch, he only stared up at the older man.

“Shit! I don’t know if I should be impressed or hit you in your stupid face!”

Negan shuffled around, and Daryl took the time to try and move his hand from the strained position that got more and more uncomfortable by the second.

“I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice.”

Negan’s features screamed of cold determination.

“If you don’t tell me what I want to hear, I’ll go to that nice little place you have, Alexandria was it? And I’ll drag that kid over here and ask him instead. _Let’s hope Lucille doesn’t get thirsty_!”

The blood in Daryl’s veins ran cold and he started trashing around, doing everything in his power to hurt the other man.

“Easy, now. I haven’t done anything. _Yet_.”

Negan was now using both hand to hold him down. He brought his face close and whispered, “Cut the crap, or I’ll do go do it now. I’m giving you the chance! Take it!”

“Okay… I’ll tell you.” The reply was weak, but it was there.

Negan’s head cocked to the side, as if confused, but he couldn’t quite keep his pleased expression away. “What was that?”

“I’ll tell you. But you have to promise to keep Carl out of it, ya’ understand? Keep him out of it.”

“I can work with that. Now, tell me.”

“You promise?”

Negan didn’t blink. “I promise.”

Daryl nodded. Then he cleared his throat. “Can you get of me?”

Negan considered this. “If you tell me something useful I might. But I rather like it up here,” he finished, wiggling his brows.

Daryl huffed and diverted his eyes.

“A few weeks ago, m’ and Rick–“ “Rick the prick?!” Negan interrupted and Daryl sent him a glare. “We were on a run, to find supplies and we stumbled upon this Jesus, their scavenger. We got off on the wrong foot but ended up exchanging some info. He told us about you guys and the story ‘bout that kid came up. And that’s it.”

A puzzled expression fell over the taller man’s face. “I believe you… For now. I will check up on your story later. For Carl’s sake, I hope it checks out.”

“If you do anything to him…”

Negan gave him a look and chuckled, “So little faith in me?”

There was no need for an answer.

Negan sighed and slowly let go of his hands, then he as easily as he got on, slid off his lap.

It might not be the smartest, but Daryl has had enough. He’d already won once, it wasn’t going to happen again.

As soon as the other man is done holding him down, Daryl shot up from the couch like a rocket but Negan is quicker and on high alert, so before he manages to step away, he has a grip his arm and pulls him back down. Half into his lap, half onto the couch. Daryl growls and tries to tug himself free. Finally, he gets a kick in that loosens the hold just enough for him to scramble to the other end of the couch.

Negan put up his hands in surrender and laughed as if nothing even happened. “Easy, Tiger.”

The air between the shifts and in less than a heartbeat everything changes. It’s like seeing for the first time, like they’ve been kept in a daze, dulling them form each other and the rest of the world. Keeping them under wraps, feelings at bay. Daryl tries to shake off the rest of the traces of it and glares at Negan, who looks vaguely surprised for a second.

“Don’t call me that,” Daryl hisses through gritted teeth. Negan’s eyes sparkle with danger and all of what’s left of his surprise is gone.

“I will call you whatever I god damn please. _You are mine_!”

“The fuck I am!”

Now, it’s finally Negan’s time to lunge forward and it’s Daryl’s turn to be prepared for it.

So when Negan strikes, launching himself onto him, Daryl take hold of Negan’s shoulder’s before he can grab him and pushes, hard. It makes both of them both tumble to the ground in a pile of limbs.

They struggled, kicking, hissing, clawing and punching, at every given chance. There’s blood and bruises a little here and there, but it’s ignored and they continue. At one point, Daryl manages to scrape along Negan’s chin. The other man stares at him in surprise for a few moments before his eyes flash and a fist connects with Daryl’s forehead.

Daryl’s head hit the ground with a loud thud, and gritted his teeth. For a moment he was blinded by pain. A moment to long, making Negan have just enough time to be the one coming out on top by using his body to hold Daryl down in his weak state, pressing his legs and arm to the floor with the help of his own. So when Daryl got back to it, it was too late.

Blood dripped from the taller man’s face and Daryl felt something a lot close to pride by the fact that he’d made a mark, proof that he could hurt the other man. He quickly snapped out of the thought when Negan shifted, adding more pressure to his upper body while letting his own arm go free.

A hand gripped his chin harshly and Daryl clenched his jaw, trying to shake the hand off but the grip only went tighter, and forced him to meet the other’s eyes.

Daryl stiffened. Negan’s face had a dark expression, speaking only of an intense kind of possessive anger. He made the quick decision to not continue the fight and Daryl let his limbs go limp. Let them fall to the side. Now, he was completely under the mercy of his soulmate, and Daryl hated every second of it.

Negan must’ve felt the transition and smirked, pleased with his action. Daryl forced himself not to try to whip it off the older man’s face.

As the anger decreased, a possessive kind of need went through Negan’s eyes and Daryl stared back, eyes widening, not sure if what he saw was what was really happening.

“ _You. Are. Mine_.”

An unwanted chill went down Daryl’s spine, but to his surprise, the mark didn’t burn one bit. Reality hit him like a brick wall and Daryl gasped.

It didn’t matter how much he denied it, or didn’t want it. No matter what he said or did.

Daryl belonged to Negan. And Negan belonged to him.

“Mine.” Negan’s voice was full of wonder as he realized that Daryl wasn’t fighting it. Not verbally nor physically.

“Mine,” Negan said again, and rubbed his thumb along Daryl stubble. The grip he had was no longer painful, but a gentle touch that connected them. _Like you were meant to be_ , a voice in Daryl’s head whispers.

Then it’s gone and so is the hand. Daryl frowns.

A jolt of god-knows-what strikes, straight through his core. It’s him, Daryl soon came to understand. Negan is touching his words. Tracing them with his fingers. Daryl’s eyes go wide. Fear numbs the bright whatever that runs through his body like blood, like it belongs there, and Daryl is afraid. Afraid of what it will make him feel. Afraid of what it will make him do. Afraid of that this is the right thing, this is what he was made for. He’s the other half to a fucking maniac, what does that say about Daryl? How can he ever face the others, _his family_ , after this?

Negan mumbles something under his breath that Daryl doesn’t catch, but maybe it’s for the best. Daryl makes his move.

He elbows the other man and in the middle of the other’s confusion he does it again, harder this time, making Negan fall to the side. Quickly, Daryl wriggles away until there’s enough space to rise, and he quickly gets to his feet.

Not more than a mere second he reaches the door, which smoothly opens under his hand and he makes a run for it.

Daryl gets to the end of the hall without any problems but when he rounds the corner, he tumbles right into who he recognizes as Simon and a taller guy Daryl hasn’t seen before. They all fall to the ground, Daryl on top of the other two.

“Watch w–“ Simon’s eyes widen and Daryl knows he is screwed. He pushes himself onto the feet and manages to avoid the two men on the floor, but it’s too late.

“Don’t let him get away!”

Daryl swears that half of the bunch there just magically showed up, because before he can get more than a few feet, they’ve blocked his only way out. He flies onto the closest one anyway and knocks him to the ground, the second one is harder to get down but he does it. The third one isn’t alone and suddenly he’s the one on the ground, head and body throbbing with fresh bruises.

Steps echoed through the hall and low murmurs spread amongst the Savior. The hard hands pressing him into the cold, hard surface retreated. Daryl frowned, confused over the transaction. His confusion turned, but not in the way you would think a few seconds later and Daryl tensed, only to relax when the scent overtook his senses. It hadn’t been as powerful before, or had it? He couldn’t remember anymore.

Arms wrapped around him and hauled him up to his feet, but didn’t let go. There weren’t any sparks, but he could tell either way how it was. Negan’s scent were everywhere. It smelled familiar, but also like something he’d never smelled before. Identifying the specifics of the scent was impossible.

Besides, who else would bury their nose in the nape of his neck at this place?

He lets it happen, because strangely enough, even though if he wanted to Daryl doesn’t think he’d be able to pull away. He’s confused, but too tired to do anything about it, so he keeps himself still and enjoys the warm presence.

Then he’s gone and Daryl’s restrained again. He pulls a little at his arms but doesn’t do anything more to fight it and watches Negan pace before him. His obvious anger pours off of him in waves and Daryl winces unconsciously.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit! SHIT!”

Negan’s fist hits the wall with a loud crack, and when he retrieves it there’s blood and a fist shaped mark. The tall man twists around and stares at Daryl, there’s so much heat in his gaze that Daryl looks away after just a few seconds. “Look at me, dammit!” Daryl does what he’s told.

“Why the fuck would you do that?! Shit!” Negan runs his bloodied hand through his hair, messing up the slicked back style and a few strands fell into his face. “Haven’t I been nice as it is? After everything? And then you just have to go and mess it up! Fuck!”

A look of consideration crosses Negan’s face and Daryl goes pale – what has he done?! Will he go after his family? Will he–

“Take him away,” Negan finally says with a wave of his hand. The two Saviors nod and takes a hold of each of the smaller man’s shoulders and escorts him away.

He doesn’t fight it and the walk to his room, more like _cell_ , goes mostly smoothly. Daryl would be more worried, but if Negan wanted to hurt him or his family, he would have done it by now in a way he would know. Negan never did anything in halfway, in secret. If he’d done anything or would do, he would let Daryl know.

When the door closed behind him he let out a sigh and slumped back against the locked door. Daryl ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times, trying to regain focus. He felt drained even it it’d only been a few hours since he had last slept but it had apparently been enough to tire him out completely.

It was more of an effort to stand than Daryl would have liked. He took a few steps closer to the bed and literally fell into the soft sheets. It took a little while to get comfortable, but it was worth it. Daryl closed his eyes.

With a happy rumble he sank into the white fluffy pillow and within minutes Daryl fell into a dreamless sleep.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a test, Daryl meets Rory again and shit go down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missed the deadline last week but this has been finished for a while and I'll probably update once more before next week to fix my mistake and get back on track. Sorry that I'm late but there has been many big things in school lately and I don't have that much for writing anymore. I have to study, keep my reading tbr and finish season 10, 11 and 12 of Supernatural before season 13 comes out the 12 October - so I've been busy. And this chapter was hard to write, I don't know what I'm doing anymore. 
> 
> Thanks for the nice comments and kudos!

There is no light or sound to finally wake him from his sleep, so it’s his full bladder that does the trick. Daryl lies for a while and just stares at the white ceiling, but soon it’s too much and he really needs to go, so he slowly gets up and stretches.

He takes the few steps to the bathroom and walks inside, not bothering to even close the door. By the way he acted and directly disobeyed Negan, he is sure that he won’t be seeing the older for the next few days.

Daryl takes care of his business and stares longingly at the shower. In the end he decides against it.

When he’s washed his hands he gets out of the small room and into the other, slightly bigger room. Daryl takes a few turns around it before he ends up on the floor, leaning against the now closed bathroom door with one of the books three books on the shelf. Daryl opened the first page, hoping for it to consume him, or at least keep his interest enough for time to pass quicker.

That isn’t the case, though.

After only a page he found himself reading the same paragraph over and over again until it turned into absent mindedly skimming though the pages. It didn’t take long till he admitted his defeat and finally gave up, tossing the boring item across the room. It hit the wall and fell flatly to the ground, open with a few pages bended.

Then there was a rustle in the lock, and a few seconds later the door opened. A tall, lanky body stood in the doorway and as it strolled inside Daryl immediately recognized it as Rory, _the kid_ , no, teen from before.

Daryl covered his surprise with a scowl, and if Rory had seen Daryl’s mouth slightly agape he didn’t comment on it.

The green eyes bore into his, so Daryl shifted away and turned his gaze to the book on the floor. It was the only thing out of place, if he didn’t count himself. Rory did the same.

It stayed quiet for a while and it wasn’t like Daryl would start a conversation, or even minded having it that having it that way. Actually, he preferred it.

Rory laughed, and quickly Daryl’s eyes darted to him, startled. The kid, _guess kid was stuck_ , wasn’t bothered by his reaction at all, but met his eyes head on. “What did that book ever do to you?”

“Nothin’. That was the problem.”

The kid laughed again and shook his head. Then he turned around and motioned to the open doorway. “Come on now, we don’t have all day.”

Daryl didn’t stand, though. Instead he spoke, “Where we goin’?” while tilting his head in the direction Rory had pointed to.

“You’ll see.”

When Daryl still didn’t move Rory sighed, annoyance flashing across his face.

“Alright, we’re visiting Emmett, okay?”

A frown spread across Daryl’s face. “Who?”

The kid stared at him as if he’d grown a second head, then as if it should be something Daryl should know, something obvious. Daryl clenched his jaw, breaking whatever spell the other had been in.

“Doctor Carson, I mean. Doctor _Emmett_ Carson.”

There were no reply, instead Daryl stood up and trailed after Rory, who also had started walking.

They began in silence, but there was a question that wouldn’t stop bugging him that constantly popped up. He closed his eyes for a second.

“Why you?”

Rory’s looked at him in the corner of his eye and Daryl elaborated. “Why did he choose you to get me?” Realizing it could come of as a Hilltop related question, which Daryl rather not wanted to discuss after this morning.

Green eyes sparkled, and the youth gave him a rare smile. “You already know, don’t you?”

He did.

This – this was a test of sorts, one that would determine his faith and a lot of other people’s too. Negan, he’d sent someone, someone who was basically a kid, which he easily could overpower as a final chance. Because if he ran, or tried too, that would be it. It for him and for his family. He’d been given many chances, but this would be the final one. There was were no more lifelines to save him. The first one had been when he’d lashed out at the gathering, the night when Abraham died. And the second one had been earlier that day when he’d panicked and had tried to escape.

He nodded, signaling Rory that he understood. _Really_ understood.

“Wanna see it?”

“See what?”

“The ‘in case of’ squad.”

Yet again, he was startled and Daryl stopped moving, too shocked by the younger’s words. Rory gave out a chuckle. “Don’t look so surprised, this will surely get me into trouble, but it’ll be worth it!”

_‘The kid’, did really fit after all._

 

They had ended up at the Doctor’s place in the end, but not until Rory had dragged him through a rather long detour.

The usual way there had been out of the question and Rory swore that this other way would be the perfect one. No one would suspect it, so no Saviors would be stationed there.

It wasn’t until they were actually through the door, outside, that Daryl realized how much the kid was doing right now. How much he was sticking out his neck by doing this. This presented the perfect moment to escape.

If he’d had the chance yesterday, he would have taken it and run as far away from the Sanctuary and Negan as he possibly could. But now? No, he wouldn’t leave. It would both put his people, and even if he shouldn’t care, Rory at risk. Both parties would have to face Negan’s wrath, which he suspected wouldn’t be all that pretty.

So he didn’t run.

Daryl saw the worried and doubtful glances Rory threw his way when he thought he didn’t notice, but ignored it. He was going to prove the kid wrong either way.

Instead, he followed the kid as the fresh air hit his face and breathed it in, _savored it_. This would probably be the last time for a while that he would be outside, where he’d grown up in and been for the majority of his life. The itch to hunt, to do something useful blossomed in his chest but he pushed it down and enjoyed the moment.

They kept themselves close to the wall to not get spotted and it was working pretty well. Sooner than Daryl would have liked though, the trip ended and they were at the main entrance, the one he’d used the day he got here.

There’s noise and shuffling coming from there, and Daryl can only imagen what’s going on over there. The kid seems to read his mind because He gives Daryl a meaningful glance and leaves the protection of the building and stalks right into view. Rory says, “Come on now, Daryl! We can do that later,” in a slightly too loud voice. And carefully, with an added eye roll for measure, Daryl steps after Rory.

His eyes widen instantly and he can spot Rory in the corner of his eye trying to suppress a smile with stern more serious tight-lipped look. It isn’t really working, but the other Saviors doesn’t seem to notice, not yet at east, too caught up their surprise. Daryl nudges the kid anyway, who cast him an amused glance.

They are silent, too shocked to move apparently, and Rory takes his chance to grab Daryl and drag him along, through the crowd of men and women. “Hello, boys. Girls. Nice to see you guys this splendid afternoon. We’ll be on our merry way now, have a good day!”

And then they were out of there, Rory’s hand cold in his, pulling him along into a sprint until they’d crossed a corner and the kid leads him into an empty room, a storage of sorts, and they stop, hands falling to their sides.

Then Rory starts laughing, that kind that means he probably won’t stop for a while and Daryl’s lip tugs upward in an absent minded smile, too caught up in what just had happened.

It had been more people than he’d thought, all prepared to fight, _except if the enemy was coming from the wrong direction it seemed_ , armed and dangerous. Daryl didn’t know to be proud or worried, though. Because one, they didn’t think he’d go down easy so they were many. Two, they were many. His chances of ever escaping wasn’t exactly rising. More like sinking by the second.

He had to admit that their expressions had been priceless and pretty funny, though. Eyes wide, mouth’s hanging open and body’s slack, not ready to do anything. Rory’s idea had proved to be good in more than one way, after all. _Fuck_! He was starting to like the kid wasn’t he? He couldn’t deny the freedom Rory had given him, if only for a moment. _Fuck_.

“Okay – we actually do need to go now. Come on!”

Apparently, Rory’s laugh attack has passed and he starts to walk away ad barely hears Daryl’s words. But he does.

“Thank you.”

They’re out of there and walking again and they’re at their destination, at the infirmary within minutes.

“Simon is probably going crazy right now, so I’ll leave you here. You’ll be in good hands,” Rory says, waving with both hands. “See you later!”

And with that he’s gone and Daryl is left alone at the entrance of the Infirmary. Not sure if what just happened actually did take place, he sighs and shakes his head before stepping inside.

“God morning, Daryl. How are – Oh my god, what happened to you?” The doctor’s easy smile turns to a worried frown and Daryl pulls his tee over his head and takes a seat on one of the empty gurneys in the room, noting the absence of people. Usually, there’s more by now.

“Slow day?”

Doctor Carson waves absently with his hand, checking over Daryl with his eyes while replying, “Yeah, today’s been good. Not many hurt or sick, but god! What happened?”

Mouth turning to a tight line, Daryl sits quiet.

Carson sighs, but begins his work anyway. First he checks over the stitches, which didn’t break – thank fuck – before moving onto the cuts and bruises over his skin, cleaning and taking care of what he can.

He is almost done with him when he speaks again. “Negan came in before. Did you guys fight?”

The way he says it makes Daryl frown. It is said like all this was normal, like he was supposed to be here, and even the thought of him fighting anyone here was weird.

“Yeah, we fought,” Daryl spits back, eyes narrowed.

He receives a strange look form the doctor but didn’t bother with it and when he didn’t elaborate, Carson took a hint and continued, and Daryl just the man do his work in silence. There seemed to be a lot of that today.

They were almost finished and it was going _fine_ , or at least thought it was. But the doctor hadn’t gotten the memo. “Can I give you a piece of advice?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Embrace it. Make it easier for yourself and for everyone involved. Let him take care of you, like he takes care of all of his people.”

 _I might be technically his, in the sense of the universe. But I am not one of his people. I am not a Savior_. Daryl wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t feel the need to answer. This was obvious for him and he had nothing, absolutely nothing, to prove to this man.

He clenched his jaw and glared at the man, who shook his head and turned away to put down his supplies.

Daryl pulls his shirt back on and glances over his words, displayed because of the lack of long sleeves connected to it.

**The Tiger**

He looks away.

Someone coughs. It’s Simon, standing by the door, looking pissed off. Doctor Carson offers him a, “Hello,” before turning back to Daryl, face edged with sad disappointment. “We’re done for the day. Make sure to clean up more, to let it heal properly and do not, I repeat do not get in another fight, _please_. At least wait until the stitches are gone. And if it gets any worse, don’t hesitate to come back. I’ll see you later.”

Daryl nodded in acknowledgement and followed Simon out, who gave him a strained smile.

“Where we goin’?”

Taken aback, Daryl realized that they weren’t on their way to his room, but to Negan’s. He tries to cover it up, but it slips through and Simon sees, smiles and keeps walking. “Take a guess.”

Daryl huffs.

Simon halts and knocks, taking a step back. “Negan,” he greets his leader, and Daryl wants to puke at how awe-struck it sounds. He doesn’t though.

Negan’s eyes drifts to him and Daryl squirms, uncomfortable under the other’s burning gaze and unreadable expression.

A feeling too close to guilt rises to the surface and Daryl quickly stand up straight, pushing it down. He dares another glance at the man. He looks tired, like this day has taken a toll on him too. Daryl almost feels sympathy for him. Almost.

Currently, he is talking with Simon in a low voice and Daryl can’t find the strength to even try and eavesdrop. He’s standing too far away, anyway.

“Okay, update me later on this shit show situation,” Negan finally says, rubbing his beard. Simon nods quickly. Then he turns to walk away. When he passes Daryl, who’s leaning against the wall a bit further down, he smirks. Daryl doesn’t have time to register what it could mean but he glares anyway at the right-hand man’s retreating back.

He has made his choice now by not trying anything, Daryl realizes. Negan knows too.

Negan doesn’t move, deep in thought, so Daryl does instead. He pushes himself off of the wall walks closer, just enough to count. He’s being watched, Daryl knows, and tries not to fidget too much.

It is at this moment Daryl’s stomach it’s appropriate to rumble, indicating his growing hunger. They both look down, surprised. Negan looks conflicted for a second time today, and Daryl isn’t sure he likes it or not yet. At least it had been proved useful before, but he can’t be sure.

“We’ll have to fix that later, there’s a shitload of other thing to handle first.”

Then he strides past. Daryl follows. He isn’t even going to ask anymore. He isn’t ready for it anyway.

And he isn’t.

“Go shower,” is the first words Negan utter when they arrive at Daryl’s room.

“What?”

“Go. Shower. Clean up.”

“…”

Negan gives him a blank stare. “Did I stutter?”

“Why?”

“Doc’s orders. Now, are you going to follow them the easy way or the hard way?” At the last part there’s a smile in his voice matching the one on his face. Daryl’s stomach does a double flip.

When he doesn’t answer immediately, Negan’s shrugs of the leather jacket and closes the door behind him. “Then the hard way it is.”

Daryl’s stares, unimpressed.

“And why the fuck would I do anythin’ you say? Or him? I ain’t one of your people, so stop fucking act like I am.”

“No, you are not. _You_ are so fucking more than that and you know it.”

“ _No_.” It comes out more desperate then it’s meant too, and Negan hears it.

“Ya’ really wanna talk about this now?” Negan takes a step closer.

Daryl shakes his head. Honestly, he never wants to.

“Then go follow Doc’s advice.”

He doesn’t hesitate this time.

Without looking back he goes into the bathroom and closes the door with a hard bang. He didn’t really want to, but he stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower and turned it on, not bothering to wait for the heat to turn on properly.

The cold spray hit him and he shivers but stays put, enjoying how his mind cleared and how the pain blended in with the unexpected cold. Slowly, it turned warm, hotter and hotter by the minute and Daryl threw his head back, letting the heat take him away for a moment.

He rubbed the dried blood and sweat off of his skin and washed his hair. When he was done he turned off the water and stepped out, careful not to slip. Daryl reached for a towel and made a quick job drying himself.

There weren’t any clothes in there with him, not that he had any here to begin with and he cursed himself quietly for going along with this. There was no real shame of his body or scars, but he rather not show it off after what happened this morning. What he’d felt. It must be the mark. So he wasn’t going to trust it or himself, and especially not Negan.

A few minutes passed, Daryl sighed. There was no way avoiding it. He opened the door and stepped out, the towel around his waist. He braced himself. But Negan wasn’t there. Daryl exhaled loudly.

The door was closed, presumably locked, and there was clothes on the bed. He let go of the towel that fell to his feet in a messy pile. He slipped on a pair of boxers and the blue jeans. They were both slightly too big, but not enough to be bothersome. And another sleeveless shirt. Daryl was sensing a pattern here.

He picked it up, about to put it on when the door behind him swung open. The door had been open after all.

“Don’t mind me.” The smirk were evident in his voice. Daryl turned around and glared at the man as he pulled the tee over his head and put it on, growling under his breath in annoyance. Negan pouted.

Unconsciously, Daryl scratched his arm. When he noticed, he immediately let his arm fall to the side. Distracted, he didn’t catch the look on the other man’s face. He looked up at Negan, a few seconds later and took a step back, mouth slightly agape.

Because then his whole posture changed and Daryl caught Negan, who stood in the doorway, with a frightening gleam in his eye.

Negan’s mood had turned sour in an instant and Daryl frowned, opening his mouth to speak. He closed it abruptly however when Negan’s gaze moved slightly downward and flashed dangerously.

Daryl gulped and took another step back. Negan’s eyes flashed again. He stalked forward and like a clockwork Daryl moved away. He couldn’t get far, though. After only a few steps Daryl’s back hit the wall and not a mere second later a hand shot out, pushing him further into the hard surface. He’s trapped.

“What,” Daryl manages to spit, trying to get passed the taller man.

It’s Negan’s turn to growl, and Daryl shrinks back as Negan gets closer.

“What happened today, will not be repeated? Am I clear?”

Silence.

“AM I FUCKING CLEAR?!”

His mouth opens and Negan’s eyes are immediately drawn to it. Like a switch has been flipped, Daryl found himself unable to move and he could only stand and watch as Negan leaned in closer.

There was up to no space between them, but in the last second Negan changed direction and buried his nose in the nape of his neck. A flicker of disappointment made itself known in Daryl’s mind. Then Negan drew back and Daryl couldn’t help but notice the water from his hair on the taller man’s cheek. He stopped his hand just in time from wiping it off.

_Wait, what just happened?_

Their lips hadn’t touched, but it was a close call, Daryl realized. He inhaled deeply.

Daryl’s eyes diverts to anything except Negan, nodding weakly. “Yes.”

“We’ll stick to what I said before, no new ones. But you will have to follow them, okay?”

Daryl nodded, still not meeting the hard gaze.

“Look at me,” Negan says. Daryl’s eyes dart to the other man, surprised by the gentle tone. “And there will be no repeat of today?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Allowing him some space, Daryl could feel a hand wrap itself around his wrist in a restraining hold, like he would bolt the minute Negan stepped away. The touch was warm and also pleasant, comforting and felt _so right_. He wished it didn’t.

Negan gives him a lingering look and release his wrist.

After the other man is gone, Daryl stares at the door. Tension creeps back into his shoulders.

In his head, Daryl told himself that the only reason he hadn’t pulled away or ran this morning was because he’d had no choice, no chance to do it. It had been a test after all. But in the deep back of his mind, he knew it wasn’t the truth. And it never would be.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl offers to help, speaks some to Negan and is left not knowing a thing. Doctor Carson knows a lot, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I officially don't know what I'm doing anymore, and have a million stuff to do - both privately and school related. (This included.)  
> This was an easy chapter, and I've got a feeling the next one will not be one of those, unfortunately.  
> Updating next week mkght not happen...  
> Enjoy!

It doesn’t hit Daryl until much later that _he_ might know. About him and Negan. Well, not about ‘them’ but about what they were, that they were soulmates. Doctor Emmett _fucking_ Carson probably knows everything. That would explain a lot. Both of what he said and how he acted. It would make sense.

 _Fuck_.

“You okay?” Rory asks, eyeing Daryl strangely.

With no real desire to reply, Daryl only grunts. Rory gives him a look, but Daryl just shrugs. The kid sighs, but doesn’t say anything and Daryl is pleased with that. He doesn’t feel like talking. Not even to the kid.

He hasn’t really spoken much lately.

Nothing and everything has stayed the same.

“You done?”

Daryl looked down at his half eaten plate and shrugged not really feeling hungry anymore, so why not? He stood up. The kid followed suit. They received a couple of dirty looks from other Saviors but ignored it, quickly putting their things away.

He’s been upgraded to the privilege of getting the food himself and eating in the canteen like everyone else. With the company, of course. Usually Rory, but sometimes by other nameless Saviors. He prefers Rory, but the silence of the other’s makes it worth it.

At least the doesn’t have to put up with Negan and all that soulmate crap anymore. He has barely seen the guy since their last _conversation_ except for a few glimpses here and there. Rory has mentioned Negan being busy, therefore his absence, but it’s not like Daryl cares. _He doesn’t_.

And Daryl is loving it so far, because with the other not around, his priorities are kept straight and his focus has returned.

Well, that is what he keeps telling himself and so far it has worked smoothly.

“I’ll leave you here, I will be back soon,” Rory suddenly says, and then he’s gone, leaving Daryl dumfounded for a moment. He is standing outside of the Infirmary alone now, and Daryl might be, or might not be worried for the kid.

Those thought are interrupted when Doctor Carson sticks out his head and quickly pulls him inside, dragging him into the far corner of the room. For second Daryl remembered that he might know, but it disappeared just as fast as it had appeared when he noticed that all the gurneys where all full of patients. Daryl blinked, surprised.

“Hello, Daryl. How are you?” His voice is strained and his smile is tired, like he’s been working none-stop for a bit longer than he should. “Good?” Daryl replies, but it comes out more like a question. His brows furrow as Carson gestures for him to take of his shirt, too his surprise, Daryl shakes his head.

“What?” the Doctor asks, confused.

“I feel fine, help them,” he explains, cocking his head in the direction of the sleeping patients. Doctor Carson’s eyes light up in realization.

“I’ve done everything I can for them for the last couple of hours. Right now, all they need is rest.”

“Don’t you too? Need rest?”

The doctor runs a hand over his face and watch him with tired eyes. “Probably, but I need to look you over and then I have to watch them–“

“I can do that. I mean, _we_ can do that.” Daryl is just as startled as Doctor Carson by his own words, but he will stick to them. The other man is looking like he’s about to pass out any minute now and Daryl doesn’t need it on his conscience.

“What do you mean?”

“Rory will be back soon and we ain’t got notin’ to do so… We can help you watch over them and alert you if anything happens. Get some sleep, or food. No, get both.”

There is hope in his eyes now, but Daryl can tell that he is still unsure, so he adds. “I’m sure Rory can do it himself, I’ll go back to my room first.”

“No, no it’s not that! It’s just… You’ve been against this whole thing from the beginning, haven’t you? Don’t think I don’t notice how hard you try to make us your enemy.”

Daryl pushes down the irritation. “These people in here haven’t done me nothin’ and you haven’t either.” Is his only reply and Carson nods. “Let me take a look at you and then I’ll go.”

“Do you have to?”

This time Carson knows what he means and sighs. “No, not really. But Negan’s orders are very clear.”

For a second, Daryl’s heart stops beating. _What?_ It must be written over his face, because Carson gasps. “You didn’t know?”

No reply is needed.

The Doctor chuckles. “After the events of your arrival, and your bad health, Negan made sure that it wouldn’t be repeated.”

“By daily appointments?”

“By daily appointments,” Carson confirmed. “But it has been good for you, _and him_ , because you really need to take care of yourself better. So, maybe it’s been a little overdone but not in any way without reason or worth.”

The Doctor smiled and patted his arm, eyeing him sideways. “I believe you can handle this until Rory is here?”

Daryl nods.

“Thank you, Daryl.” And with that he’s gone.

Daryl is surprised he left so easily, but doesn’t think too much into it, his mind already going in frenzy over what he just learned. _What the fuck?_

He’s been going over here because Negan is worried? Negan cares? Negan feels guilty? It all sounds like a load of crap. Like lies people tells themselves to feel better. In some points, sure they aren’t, but with Negan’s name? Yes, it sounds like a lie.

But he can’t figure out why. Sure, they’re soulmates. But that doesn’t make you instantly care, or does it? Daryl doesn’t have all that much experience with it, but going from full blown enemies to caring? It just doesn’t sound right. Soulmates or not. A mark, words on skin, can’t do that much, or can they?

Daryl sighs, feeling drained all of a sudden. And he remembers why he put of thinking about it. _That’s why_.

“Hi–“ Rory begins as he strides inside, halting when he sees what’s inside and what’s not. With wide eyes he looks at Daryl, who is now seated at the floor, legs spread out in front of him. He can’t help but let out a chuckle at the kid’s expression, like he’s murdered someone, or more specifically, the Doctor.

Rory seems to ease at that, and gives him a sly smile. Before he can ask, Daryl explains, “He’s been working his ass off and needed a break. I offered that we’d watch over things while he rested. If that’s alright with you,” he hurriedly adds.

Instead of getting offended that Daryl literally made a decision for him without asking, he nods. “That’s okay. Haven’t gotten much but walking around with you on my agenda today, so this will be fine. Lucky for you, I know where Emmett got his stash of cards.”

The kid walks across the room and opens a drawer, pulling out a deck of cards. “Wanna play?”

“Why not?”

So they play.

“Sorry,” Rory says in the middle of their first round, in a way so sincere that Daryl has to stop what he’s doing and look at him.

And he smiles, and not fake-smile which has become the most natural way lately, but really smiles. “I would have kicked ya’ if you hadn’t doubted me.”

Rory laughs and they continue playing.

 

Three rounds is all it takes for the kid to fall asleep. And not just light sleeping, he’s fully on asleep, snoring and all. Daryl would have given him his shirt, but it’s too thin and probably smelly so he lets the kid use his leg place his head on instead.

With Rory’s low chatter and the game gone, now resting, Daryl is again alone with his thoughts that come rushing back. The patients are breathing evenly, no one stirs. There is no one saving him this time. He makes himself comfortable and looks up at the ceiling.

And he doesn’t know what to think, or what to do. Even how to process it all.

Daryl knew that there had been _something_ , just not what. There were the whole Dwight thing, who Daryl by the way hadn’t seen in a while, that he had completely swept under the rug. Negan had been mad and acted out when he’d passed out, but not because Daryl was his hostage, well not all of it. It was because the universe thought they were a perfect fit, wasn’t it?

Maybe, it had been a natural reaction? It might be. But Daryl never asked what Negan thought about it, he just assumed. What if Negan wanted a soulmate? The possibility had never crossed his mind. It should have. Most people lose their soulmates, but to find your soulmate _alive_ in the apocalypse? That was basically a miracle.

 _Fuck_.

He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. This was too much to deal with, and he hadn’t even gotten to the worst part. Just like he felt a longing in his core for his people in Alexandria that he missed, he could feel a pull toward Negan too. Like Daryl missed him. _Missed their time together. Missed his smirk. Missed that stupid leather jacket he kept wearing_. Daryl really missed his soulmate didn’t he?

It was fucked up, but he did. That mad had killed one of his own, threatened them, stolen from them and still, after barely two days apart, _he missed him_. He was fucked up. No news there, Daryl mused, bringing his thumb to his mouth, trying to distract his raging nerves.

Steps approach, and for a second Daryl think it is Doctor Carson. But no, it’s too soon.

Clad in a red scarf and that fucking leather jacket Negan walks inside, pausing, just like Rory, when he can’t find Doctor Carson. Surprise cross his features as he spots Daryl, _and Rory_.

Negan raises a brow. Daryl stares.

“Should I be jealous?”

Daryl blinks, then sputters, “What?”

Instead of answering, the older man puts Lucille down, leaning her against one of the gurneys. He straightens up and stares, expression blank. It takes a while for Daryl to realize that he is actually waiting for an answer. He can feel his face get hot in angry embarrassment but ignores it, pushing down the return of his previous thoughts.

“Carson needed rest and we’re helping ‘im make sure they’re alright. He’s at the canteen or napping or somethin’ if ya’ need ‘im. The kid got tired. Fell asleep.”

Negan nods, but says, “No what I asked.”

A death glare is sent his way, but actually seems serious. Daryl gives him a strange look. “He’s a kid.”

Negan has the nerve to shrug and raise his brows again.

“He’s a kid! Fuck no!” Daryl yell-whispers at the other man, not to wake any of patients or worse, Rory. Negan laughs, putting his hands up in surrender. “Calm down, Tiger. Just asking.”

Then he winks, sending him a heated stare, adding. “Good to know.”

With that, he grabs Lucille and leaves the room, probably of to find the Doctor.

Daryl is still in shock and has half a mind to pass it of as a hallucination but unfortunately he can’t.

It takes a while for him to realize that Negan called him Tiger and he hadn’t stopped him. _On top of everything_.

Daryl puts his head in his hands. _What the –_

 

When Carson’s back, Daryl has gotten nowhere in his thoughts. If anything, he’s even more confused than before. Rory woke up not long before, and is currently playing cards with himself, a game Daryl remembers but can’t name, still leaning against his leg. He doesn’t seem to mind, and despite everything neither does Daryl, but Negan’s word has made him slightly skittish. Like it or not.

“So, everything’s alright here?”

Doctor Carson has just entered and the two on the floor looks up at him. “Yup! Everything has gone well, they haven’t even woken up.” Rory replies, putting the cards down.

“Good,” Carson begins, then pauses. “I see you found my cards again, Rory.”

Instead of answering, Rory snickers. “You don’t hide them well enough, Emmett.”

The Doctor laughs, mumbling, “Apparently not,” under his breath. Then he takes a second look at them and furrows his brows together. “Why are you on the floor? The chairs over there work fine, you know?”

Instead of answering immediately, the kid groans and reluctantly stands up. Offering his hand to Daryl, who takes it and hoists him up to a standing position.

“Ask Daryl. I seriously think he has a thing for floors,” Rory not-so-quietly whispers and points at Daryl.

Daryl huffs, “Do not.”

“Yeah, sure.” Is the only thing he’s offered back and Daryl drops it.

“Thanks for everything, I really needed that.” Carson smiles, and Daryl feels uncomfortable and starts switching which feet he puts his weight on. Right-left. Left-right.

Lucky for him, Rory handles it. “No problem. Got nothing better to do anyway.” He pats Carson on the back and throws Daryl a look. “I need to go pee real quick, you stay here for a minute?” Daryl nods and like a shot the kid’s out the door, footsteps fading by the second.

“Daryl, I can’t thank you enough for this. What you and Rory did – I’m really grateful. Thanks.”

Trying not to squirm Daryl says a quick, “It was nothin’.”

Doctor Carson opens his mouth to speak, so before he can Daryl asks. In a hurried, panicked and a little croaked voice, “Why?”

The grateful smile Carson wears like a white coat fades to a smaller one. _A knowing one_.

The blood in Daryl’s veins run cold even before the sentence is out. He knows what he is about to say. The Doctor seems to have the same course of thought.

“You probably already guessed it, or suspected it, at least.” Carson rubbed his hand over his knuckles. Then he sighs, “ _I know_. At first, I wasn’t certain but the way he acted, and what happened with Dwight… That your words were black only confirmed my suspicion. You are Soulmates.”

Hearing the words being said out loud for the first time is like a blow to the got, especially after the hot feeling that radiate from his chest at the words.

“And that is why I trusted you so easily.”

Conflicted feelings or not, Daryl sends a look at the other man, silently asking how stupid that is. But Carson only laughs. “You might think me silly for saying that-” _Yes._ “-but even though you have your differences, I believe you are good for each other. And I know that you wouldn’t hurt an innocent, you’re a good man, Negan’s mate or not, and the only people you’ve harmed are the ones that has caused you harm in return.”

Carson smiles. “Call me a fool, but I think you two is just what this place needs.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Negan bond a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I never update anymore but there's so much going on right now and I don't have time to write. This isn't really the long or good, but it's needed for the next part. I might not be updating in a while now, I will be going to the US soon so I will not be able to update.
> 
> Thanks for the lovely comments!

“Back to work!” Negan practically growls at the Savior, who looks like she is about to piss her pants. She nods rapidly, and scramble away as quick as she can and back to her station.

Daryl almost feels bad for her. _Almost_. He could see what Negan was coming from with her, which in another way was even stranger. But it was what it was. She hadn’t done her job and gotten called out for it.

“Let’s go,” he said, and stood, clearly not in the mood to finish meal anymore. And Daryl isn’t about to protest, even though he’s just half through his meal and it’s annoying as hell having Negan boss him around like a rag doll without any kind of input, remark or growl from his side.

It feels like Negan’s doing some of it on purpose just to push his buttons, but it might just be coincidence. Negan is who he is after all. But Daryl has made it this far. Why not just shut it?

So he leaves the half full plate and hurries after Negan, who’s already across the room. People practically throw themselves out of the way to no get in the way of their leader who’s striding in a fast pace, his bad mood radiating in waves. The whole room is slightly on edge. Ready and worried for what’s to come for whoever the poor bastard that crosses him will be.

The brief encounter yesterday was what had turned the whole situation around. Going from barely seeing each other to spending the day together, always in the other’s presence.

It was even worse than before. Then, he’d at least be in his room, cell, the majority of the time, feeling like an actual prisoner. Now, Daryl paraded around, Negan constantly by his side, feeling strangely and utterly helpless. He was walking around, doing what he felt like. But Daryl wasn’t free.

There had only been once he’d felt this way previous in his life, and that had been when Merle first went to prison, and Daryl’s home was like his own personal one.

So Daryl kept quiet, and demonstrated in his own way. Without having to face any of his problems. A coward’s way. But it was just too much.

Simon appeared and Negan stopped, eyes quickly darting back at Daryl, who’d also stopped but a few inches back. “Wait here for a moment? I’ll be right back.”

Negan left and Daryl sighed, taking too leaning against the wall right there in the hallway to wait for him. It wasn’t like he even considered running. All the consequences and promises of pain rang to clear in his mind.

As fast as he heard approaching steps from the opposite direction, Daryl tensed. The loud voices spoke of trouble and the obvious emotions in them promised it. Automatically, he stood straighter and looked at the floor, to not attract too much unwanted attention in the case that they didn’t take any notice of him.

“Look who it is – it’s the fucking animal. Negan’s pet.”

Daryl clenched his jaw. _No such luck_.

“Hey! You! _Pet_!”

His fingers dug into the naked skin on his arms, Daryl refused to acknowledge the presence of the Saviors.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Daryl glared, but kept his mouth in a thin line. They were three in total, two larger men and one thinner, but a lot taller. Daryl vaguely recognized one as a guard, but the other two faces were a blank. Someone in the crowd.

They walk closer and Daryl pushes off the wall. He isn’t feeling it, but if it comes to it he will fight. It seems to be their state of mind, as they close in, one of the larger, though, the one Daryl remember seeing before looks unsure, eyes flicking around. “Maybe we shouldn’t…” he begins, but is stopped by one of the other’s. “Just shut it.”

“He killed my fucking brother and now I’m gonna teach him a lesson!” _Not good, not good at all_.

Daryl dodges a hit and proceeds with moving away from the trio. “You little f–“

“What the fuck is going on here.”

They freeze and the leader of the group suddenly shy’s away, trying to shrink into the shadows. Like they did, Daryl recognizes the voice, but looking at Negan does the trick. Because while his voice is calm and steady, his expression, _eyes_ , is a whole other tale.

“N-Negan, hi. We were, we were just…” another one stutters, stepping back, trying to grow as small as possible.

“ _Just_ doing what?”

Surprisingly, this seems to make the one whose brother Daryl might have, or might not have killed, more sure in himself. His confidence grew and he straightened up and raised his chin.

“That filthy bugger of a pet you have there,” he spat, pointing at Daryl. “Killed my fucking brother. Blew him right up! I deserve to make him pay for that!”

Negan raised a brow, silently watching the man continue ranting. A rising feeling in the pit of Daryl’s stomach spoke of how this wasn’t going to lead anywhere good.

“What is it to you anyway? He’s just a hostage, isn’t he? Just let me–“ Before he could finish, Negan is in front of him and his fist is connected to the angry man’s face. A loud crack erupts and he’s stumbles, then falls to the floor.

Negan leans over the trembling body, and smiles unpleasantly. Filled with cold rage. “Scram.”

No one moves.

“SCRAM!”

The others are already on their way out of there, and the one on the floor quickly gets to his feet. “Of course, Negan.” Then he also runs. Negan doesn’t seem to have heard. He rubs his beard and looks over to Daryl, who just stands there, staring. “How the hell do you get into all these, _these_ situations? I leave for two minutes. _Two minutes_. Seriously!”

Startled, Daryl covers a chuckle with a scuff. But he can’t hide the slight twice off his lips.

All the previous anger Negan showed is gone and he looks at Daryl, really looks. He notices. Daryl finds himself not really caring.

 

It must be that he’s so used to Negan constantly being there that he no longer thought of it as more unusual than ordinary, being here. It was like a switch had flipped, though. After Negan had saved Daryl from having to deal with those men, the silence between them were filled with chatter and there and there had been no more unpleasant surprises to interrupt them.

It was actually _nice_. Not that Daryl never would admit to it. He considered it making the best out of a bad, really bad, situation. And knowing your enemy also fitted the description, he told himself.

“Remind me to not leave you alone. You attracts shitloads of trouble!” Negan chuckled. The anger had eased up a bit, and turned into amusement.

Daryl scuffed. _He did not_.

“Maybe I should just have you stay with me all the time, _not let you out of my sight_.”

For a moment, Daryl choked on air and sent the older man a horrified glare. Negan threw his head back and laughed, after sending him a wink. Daryl rolled his eyes, cheeks definitely not turning slightly red, definitely not!

“I can take care ‘f myself,” Daryl mumbled, turning his head away to let the cold wind flush his face farther. It was a good excuse, after all.

“I know you can, Tiger. I know you can.”

The words both warmed him and sent shivers down his spine, making Daryl shudder slightly. Negan glanced over. “You cold? We can walk back inside if ya’ want,” he said, motioning to the entrance.

Startled, Daryl looked over. He was cold, but being out here beat being inside any day. And that Negan would bring him was even more unlikely. His tense shoulder loosened and he shook his head. “Nah, just a bit longer.”

Negan nodded, and they sat in silence for a while longer until Daryl were fully on shivering in his sleeveless tee. He tried to hide it but Negan must’ve noticed because he grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. Daryl didn’t even protest as Negan held onto him all the way to his room.

They walked inside and finally, Negan let go and Daryl sank down in the armchair closest to the door. A blanket came flying into his lap, making him look up only to lock eyes with Negan.

“Wouldn’t want my guest freezing to death, would I?”

Instead of refusing it, Daryl nodded in appreciation and draped it over himself. Negan grinned.

“Thank you.”

Negan raised a brow, surprised.

With a sigh, Daryl explained. “Before. Thanks for the help.”

Still quiet with a brow raised, Negan took a step closer. Daryl shook his head and looked down at his lap, covered in red fabric. “Forget it.”

“No, no, no, no. I’m just – just surprised. Thought you hated me. I’m the enemy, right?” Negan smirked, stopping beside him. Looking down at him. Daryl diverted his eyes.

He was right, _Negan was the enemy_ , but somehow, right now, that didn’t matter. He’d helped him, good or bad, and right now that was it.

So instead of saying, “It doesn’t matter,” like he’d planned, he said, “Thank you,” again.

Instead of looking confused, Negan smiled, a tightlipped smile and nodded.

Then he sat down in the other chair. They stayed in silence for a while. 

“We’ll need to talk ‘bout it sometime, you know?”

For a moment everything was very real.

“I know.”

Later when he thinks back on it, though, he couldn't remember if those words belonged to the other man or if they'd been his own. Uttered in his own mind.

_He really didn't know._

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan finds his wives highly annoying, is angry and strangely quiet. Daryl does the dishes. Everything is highly confusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been over a month... Yeah, sorry. I was to the US, then went to a Queen + Adam Lambert concert when I came home and have had loads of exams and homework to do/study for (my grades hate me right now.) But it's no excuse as this has been ready since the 25th last month. Sorry!
> 
> WARNING! I have not even looked through this, there will be many mistakes in this first version. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

It was late, but Negan couldn’t really tell just how late it was. He’d taken Daryl back to his room hours ago, but he was still present in the front of Negan’s mind. There was a constant reminder that simply wouldn’t let him go. Negan couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He was stuck.

The slight curve of his lips as they stood outside, cold, fresh air surrounding them. The wind ruffling his dark hair, flushing his skin red.

_If he only could kiss those lips, wrap himself around that body and–_

Shit! Negan shook his head, trying to shake the image off. He was so fucking whipped, he was, wasn’t he?

“Negan?”

He’s snapped back to reality, only to meet the concerned face of Frankie. A stab of irritation goes through him and he frowns. Her worry would have amused him, but now it bugs him. _Can’t she mind her own fucking business_?

So he bats her worry away and leans in and kisses her, if only to shut her up. Eyes half closed, he spots Sherry out of the corner out of his eye as she gives him a dirty look and smirks into the kiss, sending a wink her way. Sherry narrows her eyes but finally diverts and Negan has the urge to sigh.

Sherry is hot and a great fuck, but he’s beginning to think it isn’t worth it. Her spirit is usually a turn on, but now he can’t think of it as anything but annoying as hell now.

Finally remembering Frankie, Negan takes the invitation to her slightly open mouth and dives in, making her moan in delighted surprise. They continue to make out for a while until Frankie grows impatient and grabs Negan’s hands that hang limp at his sides and bring one to her breast, the other downward, in-between her legs. Automatically he squeezes and start moving around, Frankie moaning loudly as he does, but the familiar feeling of arousal isn’t there.

He tries again and closes his eyes. Their tongues dance together and his hands seeks out skin and he can finally feel himself enjoying it. _Daryl_ –

“What the fuck!” Negan says out loud.

She’s now squirming under him, panting and moaning but the only thing that grows is Negan’s disgust. He leans back and Frankie yelps in surprise as his hand retreats from under her panties.

Frankie is half naked, practically reeking of lust and desire but Negan doesn’t feel a thing, and stands up. She stares at him, eyes wide in surprise. “Negan?”

Negan pays her no mind. Why wouldn’t the sight of his wife panting over him turn him on? This was the soulmate thing, wasn’t it? Shit! Daryl didn’t even want him, and he was doomed to lust after him and him only?

Anger flared up inside and Negan cursed.

He then notices his other wives, now staring at them, all with mouths agape. Sherry looked more curious, though, and Negan’s previous state of mind returned.

She so not fucking worth it.

 

Not really knowing why, Daryl felt watched and he wasn’t even fully awake yet. He squirmed around, trying to find another comfortable position and go back to sleep. But the feeling didn’t go away, instead it increased and he opened his eyes.

Daryl blinked a few times, to get his eyes used to the darkness surrounding him. Quickly he got to his feet, seeing the unnatural shadow standing at the end of the bed. The shadow sighed and flickered the light on.

It was Negan who stood there. Eyes hooded and face totally closed off. Daryl sank down on the bed, trying to ignore the fleeting panic and the chills traveling down his spine.

Looking down on his lap, Daryl fiddled with his fingers, scratching his thumb.

He expected Negan to say something, laugh, smirk, do anything, but no. Negan stayed quiet, watching him, no emotion going through his eyes, or showing on his face.

A shiver went through him, and Daryl tensed. “Whatta–“ Negan interrupted him. “Come on,” voice blank, and turned around.

Carefully, Daryl stood and stepped into the pants he’d taken off before bed, watchful of the open door and who stood on the other side. Then he followed Negan out and closed the door behind him.

Negan was leaning against the opposite wall dressed in the usual leather jacket and red scarf tied around his throat along with a white tee and dark pants. Looking fucking fantastic. He pushed himself of the wall and they walked in a loaded, tense silence together to the canteen.

It wasn’t until they got there that Daryl realized how early it actually was. No one was up. The canteen stood empty and quiet, none sounds from the kitchen and no of the usual food rolled up. That certainly explained why he hadn’t been awake when Negan had come to visit. But it didn’t explain why he’d been there in the first place.

Somehow, Negan had him convinced that they were alright, or actually had been. At least. _He_ had actually believed it.

No, not alright, but just not hating each other as much. _Standing each other’s company_ , was a better word for it. Quietly, accepting the fact that they were soulmates without making it a big thing or a fuzz. Or even mentioning it. Just being.

But of course, Daryl had been a fool and that hadn’t been the case. _No, not at all_.

He’d gone from medium to stone cold, just overnight. It left Daryl more than slightly confused and baffled. Not that Negan’s temper was unknown to Daryl, he’d just forgotten. It was not a mistake that would be repeated again.

Daryl flinched as a loud noise filled the quiet air around him. Negan had opened a door by the back and had begun slam around in there, startling Daryl with the sudden sounds.

Cautiously, Daryl peeked inside and caught the sight of Negan who looked around the cabinets, seemingly choosing among the supplies to take out. Finally, he made up his mind and the sound of plastic, probably a bag being opened, was heard.

Taking a step inside, Daryl slide up against the wall and took support against it, watching Negan work for himself, an intense look crossing his features.

Negan had taken out bread and then carefully sliced it with a knife before dumping it on the bench. He turned around and began looking for something else, when he suddenly stopped in the middle of a movement and turned his eyes to Daryl, face still unusually blank.

“Wash it for me?”

He didn’t even need to indicate to exactly what he wanted washed, Daryl understood. He wanted him to wash the knife.

To wash the knife.

He, Negan, wanted him, Daryl, to wash the knife.           

The very sharp knife, all while he stood with his back turned to Daryl.

Either he wasn’t expecting anything or was so sure of his ability that he wasn’t even considering it a dangerous factor. Or maybe he was just plain stupid.

With narrowed eyes, still expecting the worst, for Negan to turn around, shouting, “Just kidding!” But that didn’t happen.

Consciously, he picked up the sharp metal and ca 6tt5st a look over his shoulder, but Negan wasn’t focusing on him at all.

Daryl had the power in this situation.

Quickly, he spun around, knife in hand and took a step toward Negan. Daryl could slit his throat now. He could kill the other man that had caused them so much pain. Then he would be able to sneak out, and without all the Saviors awake, he only had to worry about the guards.

Negan would be dead, and so would the biggest threat to them.

Daryl leaned in closer, almost expecting Negan to twist around and stop him, as easily as before. But he didn’t. He stood still and hummed as he worked with the sandwiches. It made Daryl paus, and blink in surprise. Negan looked vulnerable, almost small as he put his life in Daryl’s hands.

He stared a bit longer until he blinked, taking a step back. Daryl silently turned back around and grabbed the soap, intending to do his task now. And for the first time it hit Daryl.

He was only a man.

 

Daryl was uncomfortable, and confused, that was obvious for Negan to see. He was silently squirming and avoiding all kind of eye contact.

Negan didn’t know why he’d told Daryl about the knife. Another test? No, it didn’t feel like it.

He’d been tired. So tired. But he couldn’t sleep. After his _wives_ … crap, he couldn’t even call them that anymore without it leaving a bad taste in his mouth. After that, there had been no way for him to rest and his thoughts had been filled up, more like stuck on an endless repeat.

At first he’d been mad. So angry that he’d broken his favorite vase when he paced around the room. Then, when it became too much, Negan had stomped over to where he knew Daryl was with all intensions to throw Daryl in a real cell. No furniture, no light. _No anything_.

But the second the door opened his mind changed. It scared him how fast all his anger disappeared at the sight of a sleeping Daryl, affected him. He was laying curled up under the covers except for one arm that held the pillow tightly. The arm that held _his_ mark.

**The Tiger**

The urge to trace it welled up, but Negan held himself back. He didn’t want to scare the other man, he had realized. It was a strange feeling, to want to protect, to save and to possess.

He wanted the other man.

And the thought wasn’t as scary as he’d first believed it too be. He had looked down at his own mark and traced his own words in Daryl’s sloppy but steadfast handwriting. It was calming.

It had stayed on his mind the whole time, but it hadn’t felt real until Daryl hadn’t taken the chance. Not really, after all. If he had gone through with it, Negan wouldn’t have blamed him. But that was the thing. He hadn’t gone through with it.

A happy, giddy feeling rose.

So he smiled at the other man. At first, Daryl didn’t notice, but the second he did, his eyes widened and a look similar to a deer caught in headlights passed over his face.

Finally then, the grin reached his eyes.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new pairing is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited at all.

He held the gun steadily, eye locked at his target who was only a click away from lying dead on the ground.

“Where is he?”

“Where is who?” Negan only chuckled, moving his arms in a sweeping gesture, seemingly not affected the slightest by the fact that a gun was pointed at him.

Carl slowly glanced around, to the Saviors surrounding them, most seemingly pointing their weapons at him, and looking at him with surprised glares. His eyes caught sight of a boy around his age, maybe a few years older, who stood close to Negan, eyes burning with a collected rage, and amusement?

Even the kids are crazy? Maybe it isn’t that surprising after all.

“Where is he?” he repeated, this time directing it to the teenager. Just as he did, the boy spoke up too, noticing the younger’s attention turning to him. “Put your gun down, or you won’t get out of this alive.”

Carl froze.

Not because of the message in his statement that would be important if he wanted to survive this, he wasn’t going to live through this. But because of _what_ he said.

 _His mark_.

The sentence, **Put your gun down, or you won’t get out of this alive** , had been on his left shoulder as long as he could remember. Carl had never gone without a shirt since his fifth birthday, when a girl saw his mark, screamed and told her mother about it, calling him a murderer. He hadn’t been allowed back to their house again, not that he would have wanted to return.

His mother had always reassured him that it would be okay, he was not a killer, but maybe destined to be a cop, like his father, not that it gave him something to be calm about. His soulmate, his one and only, might be the one to kill him. A criminal. Someone _worse_ than a criminal.

And to call anyone that in this _time_ , that was a lot. World gone to hell and all. He was with the people who had killed Abraham! But at the same time he knew that, Carl couldn’t really wrap his mind around it.

“Hey, future serial killer!”

Carl flinched, and he snapped out of his thoughts and looked over to Negan, who had moved a few feet closer to him, looking worried. _No, pretending to be worried_. He was playing with him again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, as if Carl wasn’t holding him at gunpoint.

He narrowed his eye again and gave him a strange look, holding the gun tighter. He didn’t dare looking over at his soulmate, afraid of what he’d find. If he pulled he pulled the trigger now, he wouldn’t have to deal with this. He wasn’t supposed to find his one anyway! She, no he, was supposed to be a walker, or dead!

“Hey,” a soft murmur reached Carl from his left. Automatically, Carl followed the voice and glanced over... The boy, _his soulmate_ , had lowered his gun and was staring at him in some kind of mix between shock, horror and awe. A red flush spread over his cheeks and he quickly turned away. In his hurry, he stumbled, making him almost drop his weapon and the reaction was immediate.

A mistake, a life gone. This was why it’d been better for him to never find his soulmate.

This was it, this was it–

“Wait stop!” Carl heard his soulmate shout and there was some shuffling, but he didn’t stick around long enough to see if he was obeyed or not. He must have been, because he didn’t receive a hole in his back. Not that it was a bonus, though. Dying now would probably be easier, but without bringing Negan down with him, his sacrifice would be worthless.

That created enough confusion, aright.

The only exit had been blocked off by Saviors, so he’d ran into the closest building and avoided people as best he could.

But he didn’t know where he where or where he was going, which made it hard to o in any direction at all. It was when he accidently ran into the canteen, filled with Saviors that he realized that he must do something, and that was now.

Carl was running again. _Why, why, why, why, why – ?_

How could this happen? This was not how it was supposed to go! Carl had considered that maybe he’d find his soulmate now, in this world, but the death factor had always been a big problem enough not to hope for it.

He didn’t know where he was headed, or where he was for that matter but he couldn’t stay. Not after… _him_. And seriously, a guy?

Carl stopped for a second to wipe the sweat of his brow, using the other hand to run through his hair.

If he’d only taken that shot.

That’s when the sound of footsteps reached his ears. Before he could make a move, a hand gripped his shoulder tightly, holding him in place. Carl tried to wriggle away but the hand stayed where it was. “Damnit!” he muttered through clenched teeth, trying to elbow his attacker.

“Carl!”

He froze. He recognized that voice. “Daryl?”

“Yea’… Hi,” he replied unsurely, and Carl broke off in a grin. “Daryl!” He spun around and pulled the older man into a tight hug. Then he looked Daryl over, to reassuring that he was alright. “You okay?”

Daryl brushed him off, getting straight to the point. “Why are you here?” Worry shone in his eyes, and Carl’s heart clenched. He had really missed his friend. “I followed them from the Hilltop. Jumped in one of the cars. Negan killed Abraham and he took you. I needed to do something. And he needed to die.”

“Did ya’ do it?” Daryl’s expression was strangely blank, but Carl didn’t pay too much attention to it. “No,” he answered guiltily. It’d all been for nothing.

Daryl nodded, deep in thought.

“How’d you get away?”

Carl opened his mouth to answer but then there were more sounds of shuffling down the hall and Carl was relieved to be interrupted.

“C’mon, we need to go!”

With a steady hold of his hand, Daryl turned back the way they came, forcing Carl with him. They made a turn, and another, and Carl realized how well Daryl must know this place. His brow furrowed as a question came to mind. He squeezed Daryl’s hand, successfully getting the other’s attention. Daryl raised a brow.

“How did _you_ get away?”

Daryl tensed, but Carl wasn’t suspicions yet, Daryl was often like this.

“Later. We need to leave.”

Carl shook his head. He needed to know. Something was very wrong. “Now.”

A conflicted feeling passed through his eyes, then he pulled Carl to the side and they stopped in a doorway leading into an abandoned room. Daryl avoided his eyes and was chewing on his thumb, looking guilty. Something close to panic rose in Carl’s stomach. But he pushed it down.

The older man sighed. “Fine, but we don’t have much time… There’s something I’ve gotta tell y–“

“Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here.” Negan chuckled, amusement written over his features. His voice spoke of something entirely different, though.

Carl practically jumped, while Daryl just straightened up, looking tense with a tight, painful expression on his face. This had been their last chance.

“Future serial killer.” He grinned at Carl, before briefly turning his gaze to Daryl. “Tiger.” His eyes flickered back and for a second Carl thought he caught sight of something soft, but it disappeared as fast as it came and it seemed way too unlikely to actually be real.

“My, my, my. Where do you think you’re going?” Negan said, taking a step closer. Daryl quickly put himself between Carl and Negan, a protective move.

Negan laughed. “I’m not going to hurt the kid, he’s got balls and to amusing to just kill off. Yet. Loose up a little.”

A low growl escaped Daryl, making the leader of the Saviors laugh harder.

He motioned for the door. “No more running. Or I’ll put a bullet in you.” Then he walked out, eyes lingering on Daryl for a second too long.

Carl took a step after, seeing no way around it and for the first time he noticed the two words placed on Daryl’s upper arm. His eye went wide, seeing the color of the mark. His own was the same now. “Daryl, your arm–”

The pain in his eyes made Carl uneasy, it caught him of guard and it made him stop in the middle of a sentence. The rest of the way he kept his mouth shut.

They walked in silence, Daryl and Carl a few feet behind Negan.

Where was he taking them? What was their faith? He had killed two of their men, and Negan probably isn’t too happy about that. Carl clenched his jaw. He had chosen this, and knew what would await.

Not even finding his soulmate would change that.

“How are the others?” Daryl murmured under his breath. It startled Carl, who had for a moment forgot about Daryl walking right beside him.

Carl regained his composure and threw Daryl a sideway glance. “They’re alright. Shaken up? Sure. But alright. We missed you.”

Daryl nods and Carl opens his mouth to ask Daryl something but closes it again when he catches sight of his soulmate, who joins their little group. He doesn’t look at Carl, and Car tries to not look at him either but it’s hard when he is walking right in front of him.

Negan stops not long after and gestures to a door. Carl can sense Daryl tense and automatically steps closer to the older man. It doesn’t go unnoticed by the Saviors, who follows the move with their eyes.

“Daryl, this is your stop.” Negan says with surprisingly little humor and Carl frowns. Taking a threatening step forward, Daryl gets right up in Negan’s space. Carl flinches, expecting the worst but neither of the two even bats an eyelash at the action.

“I am _not_ leaving him.” Daryl hisses.

“Yes, you _are_.” Negan leans in closer and Daryl blinks, abruptly taking a step back. “Or it will hurt.” The leader’s eyes moves to Carl. “And no trying to leave.”

He chuckles. “I might not kill ya’, but it’ll hurt.” The smile sent shivers down Carl’s spine. “The consequences won’t be pretty, so don’t even try.”

He gestures to the door again and this time Daryl opens it. “You.” Negan points to Daryl. “I’m talking to later.”

With one last look at Carl, the door closes. But not without a last warning. “You hurt him, you die.”

Negan only laugh. “Keep dreaming, sweet cheeks!”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their relationship grow, Negan is hurt while Daryl is mad and confused (yet again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing with this story anymore. It's going.. somewhere? But here's a really short chapter.  
> Thank you guys for all the nice comments. You are the best! 
> 
> NOT EDITED. I HAVEN'T EVEN READ THE WHOLE THING ONCE SO IT'S PROBABLY REALLY BAD. SORRY!

Daryl was fuming.

Negan had broken his promise.

Not that it should be much of a surprise, Daryl should have expected this from him. He should’ve known that Negan would deceive him on that.

“ _Fuck_!” Daryl kicked the door. Why had he been so stupid?

Daryl sank down onto the floor. He was such a fool. He curled up, knees up against his chest.

It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was only a few minutes. Half an hour at most.

Shuffling was heard from outside the door and Daryl looked up just in time to see Negan step inside, closing it behind him. He didn’t even lock it. Daryl didn’t’ think too much into it though as he flew to his feet and grabbed Negan’s leather jacket, pushing him into the door with a loud thud.

Negan didn’t even try to get him of off him, expression blank, no anger or surprise visible, and that egged Daryl on even more and he increased the pressure. It left him gasping for air, and Daryl was finally satisfied.

“Why is he here? You said you would leave ‘im out of this! _You_ _promised_ ,” Daryl spits out.

“And y-you trusted me?” Negan manages to get out through clenched teeth and Daryl growls. That had been a mistake. A pain filled chuckle leaves the taller man. He wants too, but he can’t really blame Negan. Daryl should’ve known better. He eases the pressure.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have.”

Different emotions flicker through Negan’s dark eyes and for the first time Daryl realizes how close they were.

A sigh escapes Negan. “The kid came here on his own accord. I did nothin’.”

Daryl stills. He’s right, Daryl realized. Carl did come of his free will, and Negan hasn’t hurt him yet. He hadn’t broken Daryl’s trust, after all. Negan waits patiently as Daryl considers what he just said, eyes clouded over when Daryl nods, indicating that Negan is right. Carl _did_ arrive on his own.

He lets go and Daryl’s hands falls to his side.

Suddenly Negan’s up on his feet again, and leaning closer, even closer than before with a new intensity in his gaze, making Daryl take a step back, eyes wide.

Before Daryl has the chance to stop him, Negan flips them around and now Daryl is the one pressed into the door.

“What-”

Darla is cut off by Negan’s lips, crashing against his own. His eyes widen at the unexpected sensation that burns through him, and tries to push the taller man away, but Negan doesn’t budge. Daryl slowly melts into the kiss and his eyes falls shut and his lips is moving with Negan’s, responding with his own nibs and bites.

When Negan presses his tongue against his lips, as if asking for permission, Daryl parts his lips without a second thought. It feels natural and at the same time like nothing he’s ever felt before.

It’s perfect.

Until Negan moves away and Daryl is wrenched back to reality. He opens his eyes, still feeling kind of hazy and looks at Negan, confused for a split second.

He’s being pinned against the door, back and arm flat against it. But Daryl is not even considering fighting it, paralyzed by the heat in Negan’s eyes. It’s a look of hunger, desire (and fear?) that’s present in his eyes.

Negan leans is close, eyes flickering to Daryl’s lips every other second. He hovers close, but not close enough. Daryl growls impatiently, without the ability to pull the taller man closer thanks to his pinned limbs.

Eyebrows just raising, no movements made, Daryl growls again, voice hoarse. “Finish what ya’ start.”

Something flash in Negan’s eyes, and finally, his lips met Daryl’s again in a bruising kiss, body pressing up against him in one swift movement.

This time there’s reassurance needed, and Negan just bites her bottom lip, making her gasp and open her mouth before sneaking his tongue inside.

They continue in a similar manner for the next few minutes, only breaking away to breath now and then. What in the end split them apart is a hard knock on the door. Startled, Daryl bites down on Negan’s lip and the metallic taste of blood enters his mouth. It draws Daryl back to reality and he untangles himself from the leader of the Saviors and rounds him, the space between them stretching longer with every step.

And it dawns on him what just happened. What they just did. He just made out with his soulmate. No, scratch that. He made out with the enemy of his people, his family! The killer of Abraham, who right now hold him and Carl captive! Fuck!

Daryl really needs to think this through, and he cannot do that with Negan here.

Not catching the hurt written across Negan’s face Daryl shakes his head. “Go.”

Negan takes a step toward him, reaching out. “Daryl-” Daryl flinches, and Negan pauses, Daryl tries again. “Go!” Then he opens the door to the small bathroom, darts past his soulmate and quickly makes his way inside, slamming the door behind him.

He can hear Negan’s ragged breathing for a few minutes, before he leaves, door closing. Daryl finally dares to move again, slumping down onto the cold floor.

_What now?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been finished for a while... I'M SORRY
> 
> Unfortunately this will probably be the last update for some time, I'm having trouble to just sit down and get something decent out. I'll try to start writing more.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a horrible person. I apologize for the wait!
> 
> NOT EDITED!!!!!!!!!

Things doesn’t change as drastically as one would have thought.

Negan doesn’t barge in, demanding anything after their shared moment, like Daryl has heard of all the soulmate horror stories where one in the pair is a lunatic. How they got obsessed with the bond and the thought of possessing, controlling someone else.

He has the ability and power to take, no one would stop him, but he doesn’t. And that shouldn’t be enough to make him keep him warm, but it is.

The morning after, Negan didn’t even try to get close or make a suggestive move on Daryl, even if just to spite him or create a rift between him and Carl.

Oddly enough, Daryl is somehow touched by the non-commitment from Negan’s end. Because after last night, he knows that Negan is feeling the bond just as much as he does. He feels the need too, and him not acting more on it… It’s almost like _he_ wants it. Weirdly enough. Which might be confusing if it weren’t for that Negan takes what he wants and if he isn’t, either he detests it or he just doesn’t want to fuck it up.

The scary thing though is that Daryl is feeling things, and none of it has to do with him wanting to get as far away as possible. Some part of him even _wants_ Negan to do something, which is pretty fucking scary.

Pushing it all away from the center of his mind seemed like the best option, so that was what Daryl did. And most of the time it even works. But not every time, unfortunately. Sometimes he finds his gaze unconsciously searching for the leather-clad Savior in the cafeteria, or his eyes lingering on him for a moment too long.

But the attempted escape doesn’t go unpunished. It’s lighter than Daryl expects tough. He still gets let out of the room, only he doesn’t get to see Carl. It’s not the ideal situation but it could’ve been worse, _way worse_.

One morning, just a few days later, that changes and it seems like their shared sentence is up.

Rory is usually the one to company Daryl in the mornings, but this time Negan is the one waiting for him in the hallway outside of his room. Daryl’s eyes are cast downward, at the floor, when he opens the door and steps out after hearing the familiar sound of the shuffling of keys and click when the door is unlocked.

“Good mornin’, Rory,” Daryl drawls, freezing when he gets a deep chuckle in return instead of the usual, “Good morning!” from the kid.

He looks up and comes face to face with his soulmate. Negan grins as he catches Daryl of guard. He’s wearing just a t-shirt today, Daryl notes. Much alike his own... Before he can think more of it Negan interrupts him, successfully halting his train of thought. “Sorry, not the kid.”

“Too bad.” Daryl shoots back, until he realizes how close they stand and automatically takes a step back. They haven’t been that close since… Yeah. Always keeping their distance since. Immediately, he regrets it but it’s too late to take back, and of course Negan notices. Heart sinking, Daryl watches as Negan closes off, grin fading and eyes turning blank.

“Don’t try anything.”

Then he’s gone. Just like that.

Absentmindedly, Daryl walks alone to the canteen. When the hell did his priorities change so drastically? He worries and wonders how to handle Negan, his bloody soulmate while the people back in Alexandria might be starving. He should be worried about what happens to his family, what they lose every time the Saviors shows up and how they’re holding up. Do they have enough supplies?

 _Fuck_.

Daryl shakes his head and enters the crowded area, immediately finding Rory among them. Quickly, he makes his way over without even glancing over at the tables filled with breakfast when he sees who’s sitting with him.

This must have been what Negan meant.

“-an you please stop ignoring me?” Daryl can hear Rory say as he approaches their table. Before he can hear any reply or any kind of acknowledgement, Carl spots him and shoots up from the bench. “Daryl.”

He smiles and Carl quickly embraces the older man, last time went by too quickly and he has missed his friend. Hell, they all missed Daryl. “Good mornin’. How ya’ had it?” _Are you alright? Have they hurt you?_ They let go of each other and Carl shakes his head, having heard the silent questions. “I’m good.” He cocks his head to the side, worry shining in his eye as Carl remembers how weird the leader of the Saviors acted around Daryl. “And you?”

Daryl chuckles, but without any humor. “Great kid. Just great.” Reluctantly, Carl sits back down as Daryl gets himself something to eat.

When he gets back and sits down at the table they eat in silence, but Daryl can’t help but notice the tension. He isn’t good at feelings, or people in general, but even he can tell there’s something going on between the two teens at the table. It’s discouraging. The two people he likes the best at this place disliking each other. Expected but unfortunate.

“You wanted to tell me something, when I arrived.”

Daryl looks up from his porridge, stares at the young man for a minute and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He doesn’t want to say it, but now is as any good time as ever. “Negan is-”

“Morning people!” Negan greets them, suddenly appearing at the side of their table, now wearing his leather jacket. He sinks down across from Rory and beside Daryl, smiling one of his usual shit eating grins like this morning never happened. “What? Am I interrupting you sorry looking shits?”

Rory rolls his eyes before he and Negan starts quietly discussing something that Daryl is too tired to even try and listen too. Raising a questioning brow, asking if now the time to continue the conversation, Carl takes another bite of his sandwich. Staying silent, Daryl shakes his head and digs back into his porridge. Carl looks like he wants to insist, but follows his example in the end. Daryl doesn’t know if he should be relieved or regret how he missed his shot at telling him.

When he’s done, Daryl stands up, takes his tray and goes to clean it off. Carl does the same. Then he walks out and Carl quickly follows.

Surely they’ll get caught, but maybe they will get a few minutes to themselves so that he can tell him. He’s not thrilled about it, but Carl needs to know. Deserves to know. And it’s not like Daryl is stupid enough to try anything. _Again_. He has just gotten a part of his family back, he’s not about to let it go now when Carl is just as stuck here as he is.

They aren’t that lucky.

The moment Daryl pulls his friend away to a corner where they can talk, Negan and Rory pops up before he’s even gotten a word out. “I thought we had already shut this shit down. Do I need to remind you what happens if you don’t follow the rules?” his tone is light, but his eyes are dark and unamused.

Daryl feels anger soar through him at Negan’s reaction, but he’s also tired and desperate. It changes the game entirely. “We’re just talkin’.”

The man looks doubtful, but Daryl finds that he doesn’t care. He pushes past Negan and the kid, then spins around and throws his arms out. “What? Is there something ya’ want?”

Negan doesn’t reply, silently staring at him, eyes now clouded but interested. His lips curl upward, and he waves at Rory, who flinches, having been staring at Carl during the whole exchange. “Take future serial killer to his room. Stay with him if you like.” For some reason, Rory smiles while Carl protest loudly. The teen take the other, one eyed teen by his hand and drags him away. More protest are thrown Rory’s way, but Daryl isn’t worried.

Before he knows it, his soulmate is standing next to him. “There is many things I want,” he whispers right by his ear, then he disappears down the hall. Daryl shivers, and then has nothing to do but to follow the taller man.

It’s been a while since Daryl was in Negan’s room. He takes a seat on the couch, steps out of his shoes and curls up, all while saying nothing. Negan glances over every other minutes while he goes through something at the other end of the room. Daryl pretends he doesn’t notice, but Negan does not seem to be buying it. “Stop glowering, will ya’?”

“I’m not glowerin’,” he states, glaring at the other man. Negan only chuckles, rubbing his beard. “Sure you aren’t.”

“Wha’? Am I too much of a distraction?”

It is meant as some sort of joke, something that proves that he isn’t as prissy as Negan paints him off to be. But the other man doesn’t take it as one though. His eyes darken, but not because of anger and he stalks closer, a smirk on his face. Gently, he brushes away a strand of hair that hangs over Daryl’s eyes. “Always.” Thankfully he doesn’t tuck it behind his ear, that’d be too much of a cliché.

His mark tingles pleasantly as he stares back at Negan. The man’s smirk drops slightly, changing into something… tender? He chuckles at Daryl’s confusion, drawing the shorter man’s gaze to his mouth. Negan’s humor immediately disappears, expression turning serious, _sharp_ , his gaze lowering too.

In the end its Daryl that closes the distance between them, presses his lips against Negan’s. It’s wet and it’s hot, and everything from just innocent lips against lips, but that’s exactly what Daryl wants. He doesn’t it to be just that, he wants so much more.

He tugs Negan down, and the leader of the Saviors falls over him, turning the kiss bruising. They break apart and Negan chuckles huskily, laying in between Daryl’s knees, on top of him. “Excited, are we?” he grinned, referring to how Daryl eagerly pulled him down. Daryl’s mouth remain closed, eyes slightly narrowed. With a laugh Negan nudges him with his nose and all Daryl wants to do is to kiss him. To kiss his soulmate.

The fingers tracing his arm reaches a certain spot, and jolts of pleasure shoots through Daryl as he gasps, startled at the action. Fingers brush against the two black words again. This time Daryl closes his eyes at the intense feeling and a moan slips out.

Daryl can’t bring himself to feel embarrassed or guilty as lips meet his once again. The desire, desire for what is his, _Negan_ , swirls inside of him. He pushes and Negan, who easily could him down, lets him change their position. Negan lies with his back against the leather couch, looking up at him with eyes dark with possessive heat. Leaning down from where he’s sitting across his legs, Daryl places a kiss on Negan’s mouth, murmuring, “Where is it?”

Not needing to ask what he means, Negan props up on his elbows and Daryl moves back to give him some space. Slowly, the man shrugs out of his leather jacket, throws it on an armchair and continues with his tee, that he easily slips of. The dark mark stands out against his skin, and Daryl barely manages to stop himself not following the urge to touch it as Negan gets back down.

He gasps, as he notices the placement. The words, written in Daryl’s hasty scrawl, is placed on his chest, right above Negan’s heart.

Before it can distract him, sober his mind, he places his hands beside Negan’s hand and plants a quick kiss on his lips. When he moves to pull away, Negan tangles his dingers in Daryl’s hair, keeping him there and parts his lip with his tongue. The feeling of Negan’s arousal against his own, makes him moan and automatically grind down against the heat under him. A broken moan leaves his mouth as one of the older man’s hands leaves his hair and travels down his back, gripping his ass. He squeezes, pushing Daryl closer, making the friction even greater.

It knocks on the door, making Daryl almost bite down on Negan’s tongue in shock, but he manages to stop himself just in time. “Leave!” he growls, annoyance lazing his tone. The knocking continue, and Negan sighs. “Come in then.” Abruptly, the knocking halts and the door opens. It’s Simon.

Daryl tries to scramble away, not wanting to be stared at in a compromising position by the enemy, even though he just made out with one of them. The leader, in fact. But let’s not go there. Negan won’t let him though, only holding on tighter, practically clinging to him.

Simon doesn’t spare Daryl a glance, except for an amused glance in his direction. “There’s a _situation_.” Giving his right hand man a look, Negan raises a brow. “A situation?” Not wanting to give Daryl any information, he grimaces, answering hesitantly, “Yes.”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” he snaps and Simon takes it as his cue and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Closing his eyes, Negan sighs deeply, cursing under his breath. When he opens them again, Daryl has already risen to his feet and moved away, breathing still heavy.

Negan gets up too, and without looking at his soulmate, he puts on his jacket over his naked skin. They stand in silence for a while, before Negan turns his head and looks at Daryl. “Wait here,” he says, _no pleads_ , then with one last glance, Negan walks out the door.

“Hell,” Daryl curses, and starts pacing.

He is still pacing when Negan returns, a while later. Clearing his throat, Negan snaps him out of his thoughts. Sending him a glare, he halts and opens his mouth. Daryl has been planning what he should say, but as he stands before him again he’s at loss. Nothing comes out.

“I…” he trails off, but that’s it. Silently they stare at each other. Negan rubs his beard, sensing the tension. “Sorry.” Daryl doesn’t reply.

He doesn’t know who that makes the first move, but suddenly they’re pressed up against each other, mouths connected again. Hands roam everywhere and suddenly they’re at the edge of the bed. Negan breaks the kiss, their foreheads touching and looks him straight in the eye. He asks a silent question. Is this okay?

Daryl’s reply comes within seconds, but he doesn’t use any words. Instead, he grabs Negan and together they fall onto the bed.

 


End file.
